


Aversion in Partnership

by starburst_sunbeam



Series: Aversion in Partnership and Related Verse [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hate to Love, HateShip, High School, Love/Hate, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Slash, Rival Relationship, Rivalry, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 36
Words: 125,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2458193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starburst_sunbeam/pseuds/starburst_sunbeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bennett is, and has always has been, the kind of person to always be top of his class, the leader in groups, making student council and priding himself on the control he has over himself. He's never slipped, until Austin Haroldes transfers into school and proves that with half the effort he can take away everything Bennett's ever thought he had. M/M, slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First published at fictionpress under the same name and now added here as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: Hi, so this isn't the first time I've written a story, but it is the first time I've really uploaded one with serious intent and with the idea that I'm writing while it could be viewed by an audience. This is still mostly a work in progress, so if you see any minor errors or have any feedback, it would be greatly appreciated. Alright, now into the story!

Austin Haroldes shows up a month into the new school year, waltzing into class likes there's nothing suspicious at all about transferring so early in the year, bag slung over his shoulders and a slow, assured characteristic to his stride that makes Bennett want to hate him as soon as he sees him.

"Hello?" says Mr. Kyburn, looking at him over the top of his glasses.

"Hi, I'm new. Austin Haroldes." The boy says, like it's his due.

"Hello Austin," Mr. Kyburn says, with a bit of a quirk to his lips. "Take a seat anywhere you see free. Choose wisely, I have a seating plan and that's where you'll be stuck."

Austin shrugs, like it makes no difference to him, and Bennett supposes it probably doesn't, he doesn't seem like the type of guy who cares whether he can see the board or hear the teacher, where the heaters and windows are. He's a creature of shaggy blond hair and ripped jeans, the contrast of Bennett, and so of course he takes the empty seat behind Bennett.

Bennett stiffens, but doesn't say anything. He wants to turn around and hiss at this boy, but he's the top of their class, set up to be senior president and valedictorian next year, and he's supposed to be  _nice_ , he's supposed to care for new students like it's part of his job description, because it practically is.

The new kid doesn't say anything for the whole class, and Bennett wants to gauge him but can't, wants to figure out how making an approach to show him around would be received, but he can't get anything from the way the boy's sitting behind him and not saying anything. It makes Bennett itch, knowing that anything he does can be seen, probably will be since he's directly in the boy's vision, but he can't get even a glimpse behind him, can't see the expression on the boy's face. He wonders if he's imagining the way he feels eyes on the nape of his neck.

The bell rings, and Bennett turns around, smiles as charmingly as he can, and asks if the new boy would like a tour, before he can swallow his courage.

To his surprise, Haroldes snorts. "Nah, I'll learn everything quicker if I figure it out on my own."

"Suit yourself," Bennett says, and the smile stays fixed, because Bennett's gone through entire scholastic competitions with it on, likes to be charming and intelligent, thinks it's even more of a victory when the losing team takes it with the bite of his smile still in their minds, shining like a snide reminder of how they couldn't manage to rattle him enough to so much as make it slip.

And obviously Haroldes lacks manners, because he doesn't give Bennett a thank you before he leaves, not even so much as a good bye to cut the conversation, just stands up and slings his bag over his shoulder like Bennett's ceased to exist.

Bennett tries not to seethe about it, this boy he's only met once treating him like something to drop on a moment's whim, like he's  _nothing_. Like he isn't a straight A's student, like he's the one walking around in ripped clothes that are probably supposed to be "artful" and bed-mussed hair.

"Hey Ben," Peter greets him when he walks up to his locker. It's prime space, off the main hallway so that it's convenient, but not inside it so that the foot traffic's not heavy. He's got the rest of his friends around him, the rest of the scholastic team, because when they'd met up over the summer he'd convinced them all to give him their locks when they said they weren't going to school to claim lockers the second they could, and Bennett had pressed them until they'd given in with eye rolls and let him do as he would.

"Hi," Bennett says, and opens his locker, ignoring the way Cooper is side-eyeing him in a silent attempt to get him to make Luc and René stop talking in French. René is from France, Luc grew up in Quebec, they argue a lot, it is not Bennett's fault. Even if he does like that most of the others look to him as leader. But still, Cooper chose Luc as his best friend, this is something he should have known he signed up for.

"Hey, Benny," Alison says, perking up from where she has an arm thrown over Bridget's shoulders. "What do you think, Peeta or Gale?"

Bennett snorts. "Peeta, obviously,"

"Yes! See, I told you."

Bridget looks up from the book settled on her lap, expression offended. "I do  _not_  agree with this assessment."

The two of them devolve into a discussion, but not an argument, since the two of them seem physically incapable of being at odds with each other for more than five minutes.

"Oh god," Cooper says, looking to the sky, as though asking for a divine explanation on how he ended up surrounded by arguing people.

"Suck it up," Peter says, cheerfully clapping him on the shoulder.

"Guess what, assholes?" Jasmine cuts over them all, shouting from halfway down the hallway like that's a proper greeting after having not been in contact with any of them for the entire weekend, and as if there are no teachers or authority figures around.

Cooper drops his face into one hand, because everyone here knows well enough what comes next.

"Excuse me, what did you call me?" Peter snaps.

"Asshole," Jasmine responds easily, "And I called all of you that, not just you, Peter, though rest assured that you are the worst of them."

Peter and Jasmine drop into an argument like it's rehearsed, which it practically is at this point. Cooper looks pointedly at Bennett, burning his eyes into Bennett's face, and when that gets no reaction, kicks him in the side of the calf.

Bennett shoots him a look, but then sighs and turns to the two of them. "Stop," he says, and they do, both looking at him. "What is it, Jasmine?"

Jasmine immediately drops all of her attention from Peter, turning most of her attention to Bridget and Alison, which Bennett is insulted at for about the second long gap it takes before she speaks. "Okay, so there is this new guy I passed in the hallway, and I think he's in our grade, but I don't even care if he is or not, because he is  _smoking_  hot."

"Baiting for freshmen there, Lao?" Peter asks, examining his nails, as though he doesn't care about Jasmine's interest in other boys at all, when everyone in the club collectively knows that his behaviour is a symptom of pigtail pulling because of his crush on her.

Cooper gives him a sharp jab in the side, because he's the only one that knows  _officially_. Peter shoots him a sharp look in return, and Bennett guesses that it's probably because it's just as collectively known that Cooper's in love with Luc, and that Peter is also the only one that has been officially told.

Despite their intelligence, which their GPA and Scholastic trophies prove, they all seem to be complete idiots, in Bennett's opinion. He doesn't know why they waste all this time on this useless song and dance. There are better things to be doing, really, things that aren't a complete waste of time that amount to almost nothing in the long run.

"Even if he is a freshmen, I'd still take a shot. You don't understand the finer points of the male physique." Jasmine says to Peter, as if she didn't just take her point directly to the lesbians.

"He's not." Bennett says, causing everyone to look at him, which he knows because of the collective hush and shuffle, having not looked away from his locker at them. "He's a junior, he was in my first period class."

Cooper raises an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you didn't immediately jump onto him and force a school tour."

Bennett looks at him then, eyes narrowed. "I offered. He politely declined." He says, short, mostly because the words aren't completely true and that irks him more than Cooper's words do.

Cooper holds his hands up, waving his surrender, and Luc hops up with an eyeroll to usher him off and do whatever unbelievably gay history bullshit they get up to whenever the two of them are focused on each other.

René mutters something in French, and Bennett doesn't know what it is, but he guesses that it's probably a swear.

"To Math then," Bridget says, closing her book with a smile and handing René her backpack. Alison makes a face but picks up her own bag, handing Bridget hers with a smile so pretty it makes Bennett's teeth clench.

The girls all walk off together, hair swinging and smiles flashing like they're in a movie, and Peter turns to Bennett and says "That is not fair; that is not human."

"See you," Bennett says, and walks off.

* * *

 

Bennett is free for second period, sitting in Biology and soaking up the feeling of being solitary, this being the only class he has on his own. He sinks into the lull of terms and ease of diagram learning, nothing like the work and strain he gets from the more complicated questions in physics and calculus.

He lets it trick him.

He does have Physics next, thinks that having English and Biology before makes for a good, relaxed lead in for it. He finds his usual seat, and is setting his notebooks and pens and books out, when someone drops into the seat behind him, jostling it.

He turns around, ready to tell them off in the threateningly smiling way that had gotten him dubbed the Ice Queen, but then he sees that it's the new boy again, and closes his mouth.

"What, does somebody sit here?" He asks.

"No," Bennett says. No one ever sits behind him.

He turns around, pretending like Haroldes isn't there anymore, before it can be done to him.

Mr. Hubbell strides in directly after the bell, merely blinks at Haroldes and tells him to pick up a packet of questions and a textbook from the side of the room until he get his own, and then launches into a lesson on calculating gravitational forces and mass differences between two celestial bodies. He gets into the examples at the end, and when he asks for calculations from anyone with calculators, Haroldes answers most of them, calling them out easily before Bennett can.

When Bennett glances over at him, he sees that his calculator is lying blank and untouched on his disk. Anger burns hot and sharp through him, and Bennett tries to swallow it, because one class doesn't undermine his intelligence, and he won't let one class undermine his control either.

When class ends, he gets up and walks out, trying to keep his restlessness from putting him into a sprint, but can't clamp it enough to keep from walking a bit too quickly, strides like scissor blades.

Cooper calls to him as Bennett walks up, "Benny -"

"Don't call me that," Bennett snaps, and the whole group turns to look at him, conversations stalling to a dead stop around him.

"Whoa," Peter says, looking startled. "You okay?"

Bennett doesn't respond, just clenches his teeth and opens his locker, pushing down the anger churning in him. Despite what everyone ribs him about, he really does have emotions, he gets angry and he knows how to deal with it, but somehow this is harder to push down, edged with a bitter bite of jealousy and inadequacy.

They all drift off in groups, some to their next class and some to the first lunch period, and they give him a wide berth and side glances, like he could turn and snap at them suddenly, an alligator waiting in the water for something else to take a drink.

Luc lays a soft hand on his shoulder before he leaves with Cooper, not saying a word, but it calms Bennett a little.

* * *

 

Of course, Austin Haroldes ends up in about half of Bennett's classes, and they're mostly the ones that Bennett's best at it, and he gets completely shown up. It's not just that day too, but all the ones following, and Bennett has to fight the humiliation shooting through him, settling hot on the back of his neck in a way that he desperately hopes Haroldes can't see from where he sits behind him.

With his luck, he's betting that Haroldes is probably going to end up in most of his classes next semester too.

Bennett thinks he finally knows how it feels to be one of those kids who study hard and still tank on a test. He'd never understood it before, he's always been both smart and studious, is usually the most capable person in the room for any class or subject, and now he knows how it feels to be shown up, to have someone say an answer he hasn't quite managed to grasp. The feeling burns him up from the inside out, and he hates it; he hates Haroldes.

He clings to Scholastic Club all week, knows they're having their first meeting the second week of school in order to let freshmen get into the swing of things. Bennett wants it then, wants to feel like the answers come quick to the tip of his tongue like he always does, wants to feel back in his element and in control. He has to wait though, he has to wait and experience the feeling of losing in what he's best at, has to wonder what he has if he doesn't have this. It's not really that long, not in the larger scheme, but it's long enough to dig under his skin, long enough to be agonizing, long enough to make him brittle with the anger simmering inside him.

He walks in, and Mr. Oaken is already there, chatting with Cooper and Luc. He's the history teacher and they're the best at history, so they're his favourites.

"Hey Benny-Ben," Cooper calls, and Luc smacks him on the back of the head.

"Hello Coop," Bennett replies, just because he knows Cooper hates being called that. Luc snorts into his hand, and Cooper frowns severely at him.

Eventually they all fall in, in handfuls and snatches, and the classroom isn't as full as it would be if they were a class, but Bennett feels comfortably surrounded none the less. René's the only one not there, but she isn't in the Scholastic Club, just Debate Team with Bennett, Cooper and Luc, and Foreign Debate Team with just Luc. She got roped into their group by Luc, which had Cooper simmering for weeks, and Bennett secretly wonders if that's part of the reason Luc did it.

Mr. Oaken stands up from his desk, shooing Cooper and Luc back into their desks, where they drop next to each other, perpetually connected at the hip. He goes to the front of the room, and opens his mouth to begin speaking, but then the door beside him opens.

They all turn to it, and that's when Bennett watches Austin Haroldes walk into the room. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haroldes looks around, and then Bennett can tell the exact moment when he spots him, because he stops scanning, fixes directly on Bennett and raises an eyebrow, expression completely intrigued and somewhat sardonic.
> 
> Bennett wants to hit him.

Bennett has to clench his teeth to keep from swearing out loud, and Peter glances at him at in concern when he nearly stabs his pen into the notebook lying on his desk.

"Hello?" Mr. Oaken says to Haroldes, looking only mildly startled, as though this boy is the type that walks into their room every day and he just wasn't expecting his arrival.

"Hi, I'm Austin Haroldes," He says, flashing a smile full of bright white teeth. Bennett thinks he sees Jasmine sit up a bit straighter, and then Peter looks over at him like whatever grudge Bennett holds on the new boy, he is fully prepared to back him up on it.

"Well then, welcome Austin," Mr. Oaken replies, and gestures across the room at all the seats, occupied and not.

Haroldes looks around, and then Bennett can tell the exact moment when he spots him, because he stops scanning, fixes directly on Bennett and raises an eyebrow, expression completely intrigued and somewhat sardonic.

Bennett wants to hit him.

Moving through the seats, Haroldes moves towards Bennett, and then sits directly behind him.

Bennett stiffens, but refuses to turn around.

"Um," Peter says, looking between Bennett and Haroldes, and then turns around and reaches a hand out to Haroldes. "Hi."

"Hey," Haroldes says, slapping Peter's palm.

Bennett looks at Peter's still extended palm with complete derision, unwilling to look at Haroldes himself, and wondering how someone can give a high five over a handshake on first meeting. Peter sees his face as he's pulling his hand back, and looks like he wants to laugh.

"Alright, well, where do you all want to start?" Mr. Oaken asks, clasping his hands together.

"Math," Jasmine calls.

"English," Peter calls immediately after, just to be a dick.

Mr. Oaken pinches the bridge of his nose.

"We could start with word problems," Haroldes says from behind Bennett, and Peter shoots him an appraising look.

Bennett can already feel the way Peter was briefly his ally starting to slip, and he stares straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge either of them.

"Good idea," Mr. Oaken says, looking relieved for a quick escape from Peter and Jasmine.

He goes to grab a booklet from the side of the room, and then begins to write the problem on the board. There's maybe a slight pause after he steps back, while everyone's reading it, when Haroldes suddenly says, "2 hours and 37 minutes."

"What?" Mr. Oaken says, blinking at him.

"The answer," Haroldes says. "You have to calculate in hours, but then you can take the decimals left and convert it to minutes. So, to have the bacteria growth reach a million, it would take two hours and 37 minutes."

The entire room turns to stare at Haroldes, except for Bennett, who stares resolutely ahead.

Then, Peter, who is absolutely Bennett's least favourite person now, besides Haroldes, leans over and says in a stage whisper, "Isn't he in your math class?"

"Yes," Bennett replies through gritted teeth.

"Damn," Peter murmurs, sitting back again.

Haroldes leans forward then, "And his Physics class, and his English class."

Peter raises his eyebrows. "There goes Ben's record for being top of the class in most of his classes."

Bennett opens his book, burying his face into the pages.

"Good job," Mr. Oaken says, smiling. "I'm sorry, it was...?"

"Austin," Haroldes replies.

"Right," He acknowledges, and Bennett can hear the soft smile in his voice, tinged with pride in the familiar way that Bennett knows. "Well, I wish I could say welcome to the club in a way that didn't sound completely motivated by what you just displayed."

Haroldes laughs, sounding hearty and charming, and Bennett has to squeeze his eyes shut and tighten his grip on his book, because he wants this boy to be gone, and as stupid as it is a small part of him hopes that if he pretends that Haroldes isn't there then he won't be when Bennett opens his eyes again.

He is. Bennett knows because as soon as he dares to look to the side, he can see Peter turned around and leaning on the desk behind him to talk to Haroldes.

Something shoots him sharp and hot, making him restless and shaky. He hates Haroldes, hates that he's smarter, that he's charming too, that he waltzed into Bennett's life, into this room, and set himself up to take everything from Bennett one thing at a time, without even knowing their worth.

They run through more word problems for while, as well as other various math questions after Peter gives up the battle, since he wasn't doing it from a personal opinion as much as a desire to be aggravating. Jasmine joins in with Haroldes, trying to chip in at least something in return to him, and mostly losing or being wrong in comparison, but looking completely unperturbed by it. Peter jumps in too, mostly just to compete with Jasmine, because that seems to largely be most of his motivation in life, and Bennett can hear the amusement in Haroldes voice when he speaks after the two's back and forth battles, and he can tell that Haroldes can easily see what's going on as well.

Bennett isn't saying anything, and isn't bothering to turn around when Haroldes answers either, which is enough to have both Luc and Bridget looking at him with curiosity and concern, because they're the only ones that pick up on that sort of thing. Bennett ignores them too, because he doesn't want to talk to anyone about what's going on in his head, he doesn't want to give Haroldes the satisfaction of knowing that he hit a weak spot without even trying. Bennett's stronger than that, he's  _better_  than that.

After math, they cycle through some of the other subjects, (English first because of Peter), and Haroldes is still completely managing to dominate them all, and Bridget is looking at Bennett with ever increasing concern over his silence and disinterest. When they reach History, and Haroldes shows that he is fantastic at that too (of course), Luc and Cooper look like they're starstruck and halfway to either requesting a kiss or permanently drafting him into their history nerd guild.

Bennett isn't as good at history as the other subjects, likes more of the concrete of words and numbers rather than discussion over people that lived and died too many years before Bennett was born for him to really care. He barely cares about people living around him today, or the moral debates that go on now, but he's got enough of a grasp and interest and in English that he can completely nail the essays besides, and still do well on tests with his ability to study and work, but he doubts that he'll ever really be drawn the subject. That's why even if he hasn't participated much so far, it doesn't matter so much here, and it doesn't matter that Haroldes is better than him at this too, since this subject is one of his weaker ones and has never mattered as much anyways.

Bridget's still looking at him a little gently, and after Luc gets over the way he is always completely mesmerized and taken up by history, then he gets a little quieter too, frowning down at his hands and seeming caught in thought except for when he's looking at Haroldes. (And Bennett too, but he ignores that.)

Cooper catches on to Luc, looking at him with a little bit of concern but not calling him out on it, because he's more perceptive of Luc than Alison is of Bridget, and a lot more subtle and gentle when dealing with him.

They get into the sciences, and that's when Bennett starts to get annoyed with their looks.

"Progesterone," he snaps when they're in biology, going through hormones and crossing over to reproduction through that, and he can hear a beat of surprised silence from behind him. It makes him seethe; he isn't stupid, Haroldes can choke on it.

"Good job," Haroldes says, and Bennett whips around, angry at being mocked. Haroldes sits back suddenly, looking a little shocked, and then something sparks through his eyes before it disappears.

The two of them stare at each other, and Bennett realises he's got blue, blue eyes, while silence presses down around them in all directions from the other club members.

Then, Haroldes smiles, sweet and slow, tilted up on one side like the bad boy in every nineties movie Bennett's ever watched. "I didn't realise that giving a compliment was a dangerous thing."

Bennett knows it's not a compliment and narrows his eyes. Haroldes smile hitches up a little higher.

"Um," Mr. Oaken coughs, trying to break the moment, and he succeeds, for the world comes crashing back down around Bennett. He turns around, sits back again, and fails to keep from having the line of his shoulders turn tense, hopes instead that Haroldes won't notice.

They move on, the air awkward for a while, and Bennett sits stiff. Mr. Oaken starts sending him quietly concerned looks that tug at Bennett's heart in a way no else can seem to manage to get from him, and he tries to at least answer a couple questions, but they all come out terse. Haroldes sounds amused at it, and Bennett's teeth click back into their clench, because he was right, and the guy is a complete asshole.

"Ah," Mr. Oaken eventually says, looking at the clock. "Looks like time's up. We won't be doing anything difficult for probably the next two sessions or so, and then we'll start ramping up for the spelling bee. It's going to be pretty casual, and we're willing to take in anyone who just wants to see what we're like for a session without making a commitment, or anyone who wants to do one or two competitions but not be involved for the whole year. Tell your friends!"

Bennett doesn't know what the point of the last statement is, all of them already have their friends in this room.

Mr. Oaken's eyes move over Bennett's shoulder, fixing just behind him. "Do you think you'll be coming back, Austin?"

Bennett has to check himself to keep from tensing.

"Definitely," Haroldes says, and Bennett has to fight something that's rising up in from the way those words are said.

Mr. Oaken dismisses them, shuffling through papers on his desk. Jasmine and Peter leave first, and Haroldes follows, looking like he's eager to try to catch an argument.

Luc and Bridget, however, head straight over to Bennett.

Bennett ignores them, staring resolutely down at his books as he carefully stacks them. Even so, he still sees the side glance Cooper and Alison shoot each other before falling their respective doubles.

"Ben," Bridget says gently when she comes up to him, and Bennett looks up then, because he's not enough of an asshole to pretend not to hear when being addressed straight to his face, and especially not when it's Bridget.

"Hey," he says, "You guys can go ahead, you don't have to wait up for me."

Luc opens his mouth, but Bridget cuts him off. "Okay," she says, moving in to hug Bennett goodbye, and Bennett lets her because it's Bridget, and she's the only one who can get away with it.

When he pulls back, Bennett glances over the rest of them, varying expressions on their face showing varying degrees of understanding him, none of which he's particularly comfortable with, and will only get worse when Luc and Bridget divulge onto Cooper and Alison.

"See you," he says, and then leaves the room as brusquely as he can.

* * *

Bennett manages to survive the morning following, which is a feat within itself in his opinion. Haroldes seems hell bent on answering every question possibly presented in their shared classes now that he knows it annoys Bennett, and is leaving charged pauses after he speaks, like he's testing Bennett with every one. It drives Bennett up the wall, but he's not going to be enough of an idiot to drop his composure more than once. He's going to do his level best to make the last day seem like an aberration, and nothing more. In the end he spends all of those classes locked in silence, not bothering to respond to a question with so much as a single word, because it's all he can do besides leaping up and challenging Haroldes word for word, which despite having lost his head yesterday even he knows is a bad idea.

He manages until lunch, where he's starting to calm down, surrounded by his friends, when Jasmine walks up with Haroldes trailing behind her.

Bennett sits up straight almost automatically, tilts his chin up, because he's not going to look down and sit still and let Haroldes crash his world down around him. Not on his own home ground. Not without a fight, not without looking Haroldes in the eye and showing him exactly what he thinks of him.

"Hello everyone," Haroldes says with that same white-teethed smile, and Bridget looks up, blinking in confusion for a second before she looks immediately to Bennett, and Bennett adores her, he does, but she could stand to gain a little subtlety.

"Hello," Bennett says, charming smile turned on full blast, and a couple of the club members look at him in surprise, (no shock to Bennett that it's the people that came up to him yesterday) including Haroldes, though his look switches quickly to the same crooked smile from yesterday. It reminds Bennett of the Cheshire cat, blinding and mischievous, distracting and diverting, only Haroldes has that touch of reality and imperfection in it by the dimple in his cheek and tilt of his lips - though for all Bennett knows, the crooked nature of his grin could be intentional, it wouldn't surprise Bennett.

"Hello... Bernard, was it?" Haroldes says, leaning over. He hasn't sat down yet, and besides Jasmine standing to him and looking awkward (or as awkward as Jasmine can possibly get) he's the only one still up.

Bennett's smile doesn't falter. "Bennett, but I wouldn't expect you to remember it. I know how difficult learning names can be."

Haroldes smile shifts a little bit, and there's something almost feral in it. It makes Bennett's blood a little hotter, he would say it makes it boil, but he knows that feeling and that's not what this is, but he can't come up with anything besides saying that it makes his blood  _sing_ , which is stupid. He doesn't know what it is, but he feels the same tinge of wildness that's in Haroldes' smile, something fierce and competitive but wholly different from any pressure and push he's felt from any science fair or spelling bee or debate or anything else as far back as Bennett can remember.

And Bennett's not sure if he's a masochist or not, but there's a part of him that's thrilled at meeting a challenge he feels genuinely interested at engaging in.

"Of course, thank you for being so understanding," Haroldes replies, his voice as smooth as silk, and he doesn't miss a beat behind Bennett.

"Well then, I'm glad we're all so understanding," Jasmine cuts in, grabbing Haroldes arm and pulling him to sit as she descends towards the floor in what can only be described as a graceful crumple. Her legs fold as she goes so that she ends up cross-legged, and Bennett has no idea if girls as the only ones that can pull something off and make it look like that or if it's something that just Jasmine can do. She shoots Bennett a look that clearly reads as "What the hell?"

"So how have your days all been?" Haroldes says, leaning back on his hands. A beat of awkward silence follows him, like none of them are sure how to adjust the dynamic they'd spent all of the previous year building, but it breaks eventually.

"Good, I think Salsmen left behind a sub that has a mucus condition," Alison chimes in.

Haroldes throws his head back and laughs, and Bennett figures that it's a given that the two of them would take to each other right away.

"What do you mean?" Cooper asks, curious.

"I mean like he spent the whole class sniffling," Alison says. "So either he -sniff- has a cold -sniff- or a coke sniffing problem."

Haroldes snorts. "Almost makes me wish I had his class."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, but then I'd have math in a different block and would have to leave Benedict here all alone." Haroldes says, slinging an arm across Bennett's shoulders, and while Bennett doesn't flinch, half the club does it for him.

"You might want to learn my name properly before you mourn the loss of presence in your line of vision," Bennett says, and the tone could be taken as mild for anyone that didn't know him or wasn't quick enough to pick up the biting edge to it.

"Of course," Haroldes says easily. "It was?"

"Bennett, but please feel free to ask again, I know how difficult it must be to fit into that head of yours."

The entire club is tense, watching the back and forth between Bennett and Haroldes, and Bennett isn't looking at the other boy, but he can see the barest hint of him out of the corner of his eye and feel his responses by the arm still across his shoulders. He'd hated it at first, and then it was convenient, but now it's starting to ramp it's way back up to irritating, because Bennett hasn't felt so much as a twitch from the line of warmth pressing at the length of his shoulders and over the nape of his neck.

"How kind of you," Haroldes says, head turned slightly so that it's said directly into Bennett's ear, and he can feel the ghost of his breath on his skin, slightly moist in a way that Bennett thinks should be disgusting but isn't. His voice is low, a challenge in it, and Bennett has to fight an instinctual shiver, and he wonders if it's from the predatory way the words are spoken so close to his skin, which suddenly doesn't feel thick enough.

Haroldes' arm drops, and the moment breaks, Bennett turning to his lunch and Haroldes to alternate conversation. It takes a moment for Bennett to realise that Alison is looking at him, but when he does, she looks surprised and maybe, Bennett thinks, a little bit proud.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of it leads to the fact that everything Bennett hates about Haroldes is just the things Bennett wishes he had, the things he wants to be but Haroldes is better at. All of it leads to the fact that it's all Bennett's fault that he's not as smart or interesting enough for his friends to want him. And he hates Haroldes the most for the fact that he can't blame him at all.

It takes Bennett a week to realize he's being replaced.

He's packing up for the weekend, carefully going his mental list of what he needs, and everyone around him is discussing what they're going to be doing.

"So Peter, do you want to go mini-golfing this weekend? I want a re-match." Alison says, digging through her mess of a locker.

"Nah, I can't. I'm hanging out with Austin this weekend."

Bennett freezes.

"What? What are you doing?" Cooper asks, hanging off his locker door.

Peter shrugs. "I thought I'd show him around. I figure we'll go to the mall, and I'm going to find out if he can he can skate and see about the skate park."

"He might," Luc says, shrugging. "I didn't know you two were close." He raises both eyebrows, and Bennett recognizes the questioning and slightly challenging expression that only Luc seems to be able to pull off with that amount of criticism.

"Eh, not really, but he seems cool so he thought I might as well show him something to do around here. Might as well, since he seems to be fitting himself into our scholastic group anyways."

"And you asked if I was baiting for him," Jasmine says, batting her eyelashes.

"What can I say? He stole my heart when he proved that he might be the only egghead bigger than Bennett, and he doesn't have half the length of a stick stuck up his ass."

The entire group falls into tense silence. Bennett presses his lips together, and then slowly closes his locker. The click of the lock closing seems echoing and loud.

"Thanks," Bennett says, with a bit of a bite to it, and Peter flinches.

"I didn't -"

"See you all Monday," he says, and then turns and walks away. Peter trails after him for a step or two before somebody stops him and starts murmuring to him, but Bennett doesn't stop long enough to see who it is.

Bennett passes Haroldes in the hallway, and he thinks that's enough to keep him riding his anger, but then Haroldes spots him and turns to walk alongside him.

"Hey Bert,"

"Bennett," Bennett snaps, not bothering to slow down, even when Haroldes falters slightly.

"Right, sorry," he says, looking at Bennett a little strangely. Bennett hates that scrutiny, the touch of judgement behind his gaze, and it makes his teeth clench. "Listen, there was something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Can it wait?" Bennett asks, a little tersely, and Haroldes frowns.

"I guess, but it's probably better if we talk now." Haroldes says, and then grabs Bennett's arm to pull him the side. Bennett thinks about saying that he has to catch one of the waiting buses even if it's a lie, but he doesn't, just stands there and crosses his arms, waiting.

"Listen, I don't care what you think of me, but you need to get it together." Haroldes' voice is mild, but in the softly patronizing sort of way.

"Excuse me?" Bennett says back, forcing the words out.

"You don't like me, and I don't know why, and for the most part, I don't really care. What I  _do_  care about is how we present ourselves. I don't care so much if you want to pull your silent treatment hissy fits and passive aggressive comments on a regular basis when it isn't about anything, but when it comes to Scholastic Club, we have to figure out a way to work together. Not only will other teams notice, but it's going to mess up our dynamic in competitions and make it harder for us when we're trying to work together."

"You've been here for literally  _two weeks_." Bennett spits.

"And yet I'm already picking this up and willing to put the team first where you're not. I don't really understand what everyone sees, since they're all telling me about the responsible, reliable Bennett who believes in Scholastic Club more than anything else, but I'm not getting much of that." Haroldes drawls, and Bennett  _knows_  it's more to get an effect than anything, and he hates that it's working.

Bennett tries to think of something in reply, something he can use to justify why he really hates Haroldes, but each answer is more petty and idiotic than the last, from how he hates that Haroldes is a smug know-it-all without even trying, to how he's stealing Bennett's friends away.

Because all of it leads to the fact that everything Bennett hates about Haroldes is just the things Bennett wishes he had, the things he wants to be but Haroldes is better at. All of it leads to the fact that it's all Bennett's fault that he's not as smart or interesting enough for his friends to want him. And he hates Haroldes the most for the fact that he can't blame him at all.

"What, can't think of anything to say? I guess I'm right again, just like I always am, at least in comparison to you," Haroldes says with a slow, baiting smile.

"I'm sure we can figure out a way to work together," Bennett says smoothly, ignoring what Haroldes said. "I don't know what you mean by disliking you, that must just be a miscommunication."

The same thing as in the club room sparks in Haroldes eyes again, and this time Bennett recognizes it. It's interest, in the same way that Bennett feels when he finds a new machine or new problem and there's a way to solve that's completely new to him. It's interest wen you've been sitting in a class for weeks and suddenly finding something that challenges you.

And Bennett decides then that if Haroldes has found his challenge in this, then Bennett's done trying to make Haroldes go away by shutting down on his own reactions. If Haroldes wants to play, then Bennett's going to give him a run for his money.

"Is that so?" Haroldes replies, his eyes sharp and gauging. He's fixed on Bennett, and his voice has dropped a little, in both volume and pitch, a strangely attentive tone in the hallway's after school rush noise. Bennett thinks that if the sound of that tone was a taste, it would be coffee warmed to exactly right temperature and swirled with cream to take off the bitter taste.

"Absolutely," Bennett says, and smiles his competition smile back, the same one his mother had enough house guests to have made it so that he'd perfected by the time eight. "I look forward to working with you. Have a good weekend." Bennett says, and then turns his body so that he slip back into the hallway traffic.

Two minutes later, when he makes it through the school doors, he doesn't think he's ever been happier to be in open air.

* * *

 

"Ben," Is the first thing he hears when he walks up to his locker on Monday morning, courtesy of Peter's panting and relieved voice.

"Hi," Bennett replies, raising an eyebrow at Peter.

"Look, I wanted to say that I'm sorry -"

"Don't worry about it," Bennett cuts him off, smiling beatifically, but Peter knows him well enough to tell that the thin smile is obviously fake and sharply edged. He pales, looking worried. "It was nothing."

"Really Ben -"

"Peter," Bennett says, and his mild tone is enough of a warning that Peter stops, mouth closing slowly over the words lying still in his mouth.

He swallows slowly, and then, in a soft tone, "I really am sorry,"

"Hmmm," Bennett hums, and then starts rearranging the books in his bag for his upcoming classes.

"Benny,"

"Drop it." Bennett says, in a normal tone. "How was your weekend with Austin?"

"Good," Peter answers, slowly and cautiously, watching Bennett's face.

"Then your plan is accomplished. I'm sure you two will be friends before you know it," Bennett says, and then picks up his bag and walks away, sensing the way Peter freezes even if he never turns around to see it.

* * *

 

Bennett hits English keeping to what he'd promised himself before the weekend, and while Haroldes had outshone him before, this time Bennett comes out of the gates swinging and determined to match Haroldes hit for hit.

He doesn't quite manage to keep up, but he does manage to throw in some of his own, answering questions and bringing up points Haroldes isn't getting. He can feel Haroldes eyes on the back of his head, and Bennett feels like he could hurtle headfirst into a race with him, just for the feeling of having his heart race and blood pump.

Class ends, and Bennett stacks his books as everyone else is gathering together and filing out, hyperaware of where Haroldes is behind him. He watches the floor, and sees Haroldes' scuffed sneakers start to move forward, only to watch them stop in front of him.

He freezes, and then Haroldes leans forward, breathing into his air, "Nicely done."

And then he's gone, and Bennett is left standing alone in the classroom, face burning with humiliation and anger.

Bennett fumes all of the way through Biology, awaiting his next class and his chance to take back his pride. He'll show Haroldes that he shouldn't be belittling him, why he was top of the class before Haroldes showed up and why at next count he still  _will_  be.

He manages not to let it take him over too much, keeps it contained, but that just keeps it beneath his skin, and by the time he's made it to Physics and Haroldes moves to sit behind him, Bennett feels like he's the closest to starting a fight that he's ever been in his life.

"Hello Austin," Bennett says when Haroldes sits down, and smiles at him.

Haroldes smiles back at him, but only a little quirk of his lips, like's he's smug and amused. "Hey Benito."

Bennett's smile gets a little tighter. "Bennett."

"Of course," Haroldes responds easily, and then throws his legs out so they're propped on the legs of Bennett's chair.

Bennett wants to snap, wants to tell him to stop, that's he's unclassed and that the press of his shoes makes Bennett's chair push at his back, an imaginary pressure or not, Bennett can't tell. Instead, he throws one last smile and turns around.

Bennett's answering as many questions as he can, and he feels like he's just struggling to keep up, because apparently Haroldes is some sort of mathematical genius, and there's no way Bennett can calculate and understand at the speed that Haroldes does. The worst of it is that as the class goes on, he can hear the tension seeping into his own voice when he answers, and the answering amusement in Haroldes, and it coils him tight.

Class ends, and Bennett has to spend time putting his books into his bag with extra care and precision, because he needs the space to contain himself. When he finishes, satisfied with all the straight lines of his books and binders, even if they'll just get jostled around, he looks up and startles to see Haroldes sitting on his desk.

Haroldes smiles, the same mischievously crooked grin Bennett's seen before, but only when Haroldes seems ready to try to poke at his underbelly, and Bennett's mouth tightens as he waits for the beginning blow.

"Well, that was a fun class, wasn't it?" Haroldes says, and Bennett doesn't say anything in response. "We should probably get to lunch with everyone else, we all know they must be missing us by now."

Bennett isn't exactly sure what that last comment is supposed to mean, but he imagines that it's some sort of evaluation of his friendships, and not in a good way. He swings his backpack up onto his shoulder and leads the way, Haroldes following a little too closely for comment, a steady presence at his shoulder that makes Bennett feel too hot, his body thrumming with nerves.

Jasmine blinks at them when they walk up, and she straightens up from where she was leaning up against the bank of lockers. It takes a moment for her to reign in her surprise and sort herself out, but then she's back full force, smiling at Haroldes in the same way Bennett remembers her doing before competitions to distract the boys on the other team.

"Hello boys," she says, shifting on her feet a little so that her hip cocks out, her shirt riding up just above the waistband of her jeans. Bennett doesn't miss the way Peter looks from Jasmine to Haroldes, and Haroldes looks back and holds his gaze. Something seems to pass between them, and then Peter looks away.

"Hey Jaz," Haroldes says, smiling at her and then moving past. "I'm going to go grab lunch and come back. Transferring unfortunately means that I couldn't end up in the cool kid locker bank."

A few of the people in the group laugh, and then Haroldes is disappearing down the hallway. Bennett goes to his locker and opens it, taking out his own lunch and watching as everyone settles around him.

"Do you like him?" Cooper asks Jasmine as Bennett closes his locker and fits himself into the mess of them all over the floor. The question carries a hint of cautiousness in it.

Jasmine shrugs, biting off the food caught between her chopsticks. "I don't know. He's definitely pretty, but there's not much I know about him yet. I'm just going to see where it leads me."

Cooper nods, and Bennett looks to Peter at the same time he does, in time to watch his head duck and mouth tighten.

"What do you know about him, Bennett?" Alison asks, and Bennett looks up from his lunch and raises an incredulous eyebrow. "You're in the most classes with him."

"Yeah, and I'm pretty sure that Austin's intelligence makes Bennett more likely to be biased towards a negative opinion than anyone else here," Peter responds. Cooper coughs none too subtly, reminding Peter that he has own reasons to dislike Haroldes, and Peter shoots him a quick glare.

"I don't dislike him," Bennett says in a neutral voice.

"But you don't like him either?" Alison asks, a little bemused.

Bennett throws her a wane smile. "I'm reserving judgement."

Jasmine snorts, but when Bennett looks at her in question, she's leaning back on her hands and looking at the ceiling. "Of course,"

Bennett has no idea what she means by that, and he doesn't get the chance to ask, because Haroldes comes back then, so Bennett swallows his words.

"I'm back, you sorry bastards," Haroldes says, and drops into a space in the jumble of bodies, of course,  _right next to Bennett_.

Bennett makes a sour face, mostly at his use of language, and across the group Peter chokes on his next bite of sandwich, laughing.

"What is it Pete?" Haroldes asks, looking at him questioning, and Peter finally manages to swallow.

"Oh, nothing," he says, but there's a deep sense of amusement tinging his words, so Bennett doesn't really believe him. Based on Haroldes' face, he doesn't either, but neither of them say anything.

Jasmine does. "Oh, don't mind him, he has trouble with basic motor skills and simple tasks," she says to Haroldes, and then turns a baiting smile on Peter.

Peter responds predictably, narrowing his eyes at her. "Too bad for you that some people actually have a normal sense of humour, instead of only be amused by the pain of others."

"I don't see what point you're trying to make, Westlock."

"Of course you wouldn't, Lao,"

Beside Bennett, Haroldes nearly chokes himself as he tries to stifle a laugh.

"Are they always like this?" He stage whispers.

"Yes," Cooper replies, in the same tone. Peter shoves him in the shoulder, and Cooper falls onto Luc, laughing. Luc just rolls his eyes and sets him upright, muttering something under his breath, and Bennett wonders what it is, because based on the look on Cooper's face, it's something worth hearing.

"Whispering sweet nothings?" Haroldes mutters, just loud enough that only Bennett can hear, and he has to clamp his own lips together to keep from smiling in reply.

"So," Jasmine says, stretching her legs out and then crossing one over the other, and Bennett has no idea why she does that, considering they're sitting on the  _floor_. "I've got an idea."

"No fucking way," Peter cries, with a sarcastic dash of excitement.

"Way," Jasmine replies, batting her eyelashes at him before continuing. "I think all of us should go out together, since we haven't done it since summer, and now we have to bring Austin into the fold."

"I'm honored." Haroldes says, a smile tucked at the corner of his mouth.

"Of course you are," Jasmine confirms, without missing a beat. "And so we need a game plan where all of us can go. I think if should be somewhere classic. Bowling, Karaoke maybe?"

"I'm voting against Karaoke," Cooper chimes in. "Last time we went, Luc and René hogged the machine and slayed us all with the french Céline Dion songs."

Luc and René lean across the circle to high five each other.

Jasmine rolls her eyes. "Then is bowling okay?"

Everyone chimes in their agreement, and then Jasmine smiles, and Bennett thinks it looks a little bit wicked. "Perfect."

* * *

 

Bennett makes it through the rest of the day, his only other class with Haroldes Math. He can't keep up then either, but he's figuring that he's at a disadvantage here, with Haroldes seeming to have a mind for numbers and calculation. He's going to have to figure out a way to play to his strengths. Maybe he'll study harder in math to keep up, practice flash cards and other things that he's barely picked up since middle school in order to have the answers come more quickly. Maybe he should focus on English in order to have that class over Haroldes even if he can't take Physics and Math, he could study each of their novels in depth and practice his essay writing. He's not sure what he'll do, but he'll find a way to stay in this.

Haroldes pops up onto his desk at the end of class again, and this time Bennett stops in the middle of packing up, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Hey Beckett -"

"Bennett," corrects Bennett.

"Right," Haroldes agrees, and Bennett rolls his eyes. "So how do you feel about bowling?"

Bennett gives Haroldes an incredulous stare. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you really going to go? You don't seem like the type."

"Yes," Bennett says through gritted teeth, even though he actually hadn't been planning on it. He likes his friends, he does, but school is more important. School is his future, school is what is going to take him places, and he's going to further the better he does.

And part of doing better is  _being_  better than everyone else around him.

Bennett stares Haroldes down, and then says, "I'll be there."

"Good," Haroldes says, slipping off the desk. Then he leans down a little too far into Bennett's face to say in a low voice, "Looking forward to it."

Then he's gone, leaving Bennett alone with only a lingering impression of warmth and some spicy scent he can't name, the words seeming to whisper in echoes over his skin, even despite the distance there'd been when they were spoken.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's smiling and joking and laughing, and Bennett doesn't really contribute, but he's enjoying it all the same, wrapped in sound and surrounded by friends. He's just watching them, and his mind is quiet, just experiencing the moment as it comes in a way he doesn't usually have the opportunity to, everything meaning too much for him to go without analyzing.

They agree to meet up a week later for bowling.

Bennett comes early, waits for everyone just inside the venue because there's no way he's getting into bowling shoes any earlier than he needs to. As he waits, he taps his fingers on his leg, wishing he'd brought a paperback or something even if Peter would rib him endlessly about it for the whole day, and probably the rest of the week too.

Alison and Bridget show up first, and they plop down beside him, and all three of them decide to wait for the others so that they don't have to pay for a lane by themselves. Alison looks far too done up for a day out at the city mall to go bowling, especially since she's got heeled shoes on that Bennett doesn't understand the point of, based on the way she'll have to take them off soon. She's got her strawberry blonde hair curled away from her face, eyeliner sharp and lips painted, wearing a nice shirt and leggings. Really, she already has a girlfriend, and Bridget loves her so much she wouldn't care what Alison wore, Bennett doesn't get it.

Bridget also looks pretty, but in more of her regular Bridget way, a little bit more nicely dressed than school but Bennett knows her well enough to guess that it's more of a celebration of getting out than a desire to impress. Her hair's down in a way she doesn't do much inside of school, and the small dark waves that fan out around her face compliment her dark skin nicely.

The two of them are getting a lot of looks while they're talking to Bennett, and makes him want to snort at all of the bypassing guys. He can tell that they're trying to gauge if he's just their friend, and he is, but none of the boys looking at the girls seem to have given thought to the possibility that the girls are taken by  _each other_.

A few of the guys seem to have braved themselves enough to come over, but thankfully Cooper and Luc choose that moment to arrive.

"Hey," Luc says with a smile Bennett returns. "Have you guys been waiting long?"

"Not that long," Bridget responds, but she's Bridget, and is the most polite out of all of them, so Luc turns to Bennett for an answer.

He rolls his eyes, but answers, "Not long enough to get annoyed or bored but long enough that the guys around us look like they're ready to attempt to pick up Alison and Bridget."

Alison throws her head back and laughs. "That is glorious."

"You didn't notice, did you?" Luc says dryly.

"Why would I? They're boring old boys, and even if a girl was checking me out, I doubt I'd notice that either with Bridget right here."

Bridget flushes right on cue, and it's faint against her dark skin, but the red tone's still flattering. Alison grins back at her, and then looks out over the crowd at a group of boys eyeing them, locking eyes with them as she presses a kiss to the side of Bridget's mouth.

Their eyes all widen, and a few turn around suddenly. Alison looks both triumphant and like she's holding back laughter.

"Alison," Bridget says, looking shocked and scandalized. " _PDA_."

"Sorry," Alison says smoothly, leaning back on the bench again and crossing her legs. Bridget looks back down the hall to see if she can spot anyone else in the group coming, and when Alison catches Bennett's eye and sees that he's watching, she winks.

Bennett rolls his eyes and mouths, "You're going to get in trouble."

Alison just grins, and then throws a arm over Bridget's shoulder, talking to her in low tones. The switch from playful to intimate would almost be startling, if Bennett hadn't seen it before.

Alison's only really soft with Bridget.

"Well, good to know that Alison and Bridget attract attention wherever they go," Luc says dryly.

"Right, as if there wasn't a group of girls following us around HMV trying to work up the courage to ask you out," Cooper says, and Luc pulls such a sour face that it makes Cooper and Alison laugh.

"Where is everyone?" Bennett asks, checking his watch. They'd agreed to meet at two, but only about half of them are here.

"It's only been about five minutes after we're supposed to meet, Ben. Let it go, I'm sure they're coming." Alison says. Bennett presses his lips together, but doesn't say anything else.

They do come: first René, then Peter, then Jasmine, and finally Haroldes, a full fifteen minutes after they'd decided to meet.

"You're late," Bennett says, a little icily.

"It's only fifteen minutes, Ben. The world won't end. We're bowling, not disabling a bomb." Jasmine replies a little wryly, and then waltzes off towards the counter. Everyone else gets up and follows her, leaving Bennett scowling on the bench, the only one who cares about the importance of punctuality.

He pitches in his piece for the two lanes they're splitting between, and pays for his shoes. He makes a face as he pulls them on, but he knows their necessity, even if he couldn't begin to guess at how many other people's feet have been inside them, sweating and smelly, or how well the alley cleans them in between uses.

Haroldes laughs when he sees his face, and Bennett just locks his jaw and pretends not to notice. He tries not to think about it too much.

He ends up in the same lane as Haroldes, because of course that's how things work out. Jasmine and Peter are with them, with everyone else in the other lane, because apparently no one else can stand to be separated.

Peter and Jasmine spend the entire time competing with each other, Peter giving off bad insults and ribbing Jasmine the whole time, while she just gives sharply worded replies. Haroldes looks like he's having fun solely because of that, despite the fact that he's actually getting the most points. Bennett just rolls his eyes and leaves them to it, ending up third in the points between Jasmine and Peter. (Jasmine kicked Peter's ass, no one but Peter is surprised.)

They file out and then find themselves someplace to eat, everyone jostling each other as they argue, while Bennett quietly rolls his eyes. Eventually they all fall into some sort of family restaurant that must be local, based on the way Bennett doesn't recognize the name. They pull two tables together in order to fit everyone, and Bennett imagines they must be supremely annoying to the waitstaff, and reminds himself to tip a little extra.

Everyone's smiling and joking and laughing, and Bennett doesn't really contribute, but he's enjoying it all the same, wrapped in sound and surrounded by friends. He's just watching them, and his mind is quiet, just experiencing the moment as it comes in a way he doesn't usually have the opportunity to, everything meaning too much for him to go without analyzing.

He almost forgets that Haroldes is there at all, until he looks around the table and lands on him. Haroldes has also been a little quiet, and he might not think much of it, if it weren't for the way that Haroldes must have been looking at him.

Bennett can't make sense of the look on his face, and it makes him feel restless, because there isn't much he _doesn't_  understand, and of course Haroldes not only has to be smarter and understand more but be one of the things that Bennett doesn't.

Bennett stares at him, trying to interpret the look in his eyes, until Peter jostles him from the side, and his concentration breaks. Bennett looks at him, a little startled. He'd gone into one of those places where he'd been thinking deeply, his focus narrowed down enough that the rest of the world blended out, and it surprises him that Haroldes brought out that reaction from him.

"Are we okay?" Peter asks, a little quiet, just below the louder conversation covering them. The others sitting beside them could hear if they were listening, but everyone seems to be focused on the debate going on between Cooper and Alison on the other side of the table about some TV show Bennett doesn't know.

Bennett pinches his lips together, and looks down at the grain of the tabletop. "Sure,"

"Okay," Peter says, the plain relief in his voice making Bennett feel dimly guilty about his weakly stirring anger. He tries to swallow it down with a mouthful of water.

"So," Haroldes speaks out, suddenly cutting over the friendly argument, and all eyes turn to him. "Is there like an official leader of this thing, or is it more of a free for all?"

" 'This thing?' " René asks, voice sardonic.

Haroldes gives her a tiny salute. "I meant scholastic club, but I will acknowledge that that was poorly worded and that we are all not exclusively here because of it, because we may have separate interests but similar friends." René gestures at him thankfully.

"Yeah, we do." Cooper says, and then tips his fork towards Bennett. "Ben here's the scholastic president, despite being a junior."

Haroldes looks directly Bennett and smiles, with that same slightly feral touch that makes Bennett's blood heat. "Is that so?"

Bennett smiles politely. "I set high expectations and goals for myself."

Haroldes just hums, still staring Bennett down.

"He's also the junior representative on student council, on the debate team, does both Mathletes and the Science Olympics through scholastic club, and... am I missing something?" Peter says, and turns to Bennett. Bennett can tell that he's talking him up as an attempt at apologizing for his comment before the weekend, but he lets it go, because at least then he doesn't look conceited by trying to tell Haroldes himself.

"National Honor Society," Bennett says, sipping his drink, and Peter tips his head to him in acknowledgement.

Haroldes whistles. "Damn."

"If you look up overachiever in the dictionary, you can see a picture of Bennett next to it," Alison says cheerfully, and Bennett casts a dark look in her direction.

"Most of us came in being top of our class in junior high, or close to it, but I can assure you that all of us gave up hopes of that after we met Bennett," Peter chirps.

"Well, I'm not giving up that easily," Haroldes says, and Bennett looks over to see him grinning, all bared bright white teeth.

"I hope you're up for a challenge," Bennett says slowly, even toned.

"Absolutely," Haroldes replies, and his eyebrows tip up a little, expression challenging. It makes Bennett want to bare his teeth back, but instead he just takes a another drink of water without breaking eye contact.

"Christ," Jasmine mutters, "Is this only way you two know how to talk to each other?"

Bennett would turn to scowl at her, but he's too busy staring Haroldes down, so.

"We all know that Austin's trying to irritate Bennett, but Bennett's the Ice Queen, so it's not like it's really possible." Peter says, spearing some of his food.

Bennett drops the staring contest then, frowning at Peter because it's easier than looking at Haroldes and possibly showing just how deeply he  _has_  managed to get under Bennett's skin.

Peter looks up then, and seems startled to see Bennett focused on him. "What?"

Bennett frowns a little more deeply. "Nothing," he says, and looks away.

Conversation turns back to Alison and Cooper's argument, and Bennett pokes at his food a little absently, caught in thoughts away from the table.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something flashes over Haroldes faces, but it's gone before Bennett can catch it. "Are you done talking yet?" he drawls.
> 
> "Make me," Bennett snarls.

"Hey Benny," Haroldes calls to him as he walks into the scholastic club room a couple days later. Bennett looks over at him, and resists the urge to throw him a glare, managing to just raise a silently questioning eyebrow. "How are you?"

"Fine," Bennett says, dropping his bag into a chair and sitting carefully next to it.

Haroldes, who was standing before, probably just to make sure that he could grab a seat next to Bennett, comes down the same row Bennett's in instead of the one behind him as usual. Bennett stiffens as he's digging through his bag, but doesn't look up, hoping Haroldes will go away of his own volition when he notices he's not getting all the attention he wants.

Then Haroldes is setting a foot on the chair Bennett's turned towards, and Bennett can clearly see his scuffed sneaker sitting bright and contrasting next to his bag. Bennett freezes, but for an entirely different reason than before. He can't breathe; the room is empty except for them but the space feels infinitely too small.

Haroldes bends down towards Bennett, his face hovering just above, and breathes, "I hope you're ready for a challenge, sweetheart."

Bennett gets just enough air to say back, "Any time," though he's sure the words come out weaker and more breathless than he would have liked.

He can hear the smirk in Haroldes words, even without being able to see his face. "Of course."

The door opens then, and Haroldes' foot slips off the chair. He backs up a few steps, and Bennett looks up then, caught for a few seconds in Haroldes unsettling blue-eyed gaze.

"Spelling Bee's in a week," Haroldes says, and then arches a brow."

Bennett can't keep his own brow from twitching up in reply. "I'm aware," he replies dryly, and a small smile curves onto Haroldes' face.

"Oh my god," Alison says from somewhere behind Haroldes, and both of them to turn to look at in time to watch in bewilderment as she all but dives in between them. "We have to keep them separated or they might destroy the classroom. How long have you two been left alone unsupervised?"

Haroldes starts laughing, and Bennett can only drop his face into his hands and be embarrassed by the collective intelligence his friends seem intent on displaying.

"Alison," Bridget says gently, nudging her way in beside her and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Considering the two of them look fine and that they were obviously alone  _before_  we got here, I think everything's good, yeah?"

"Sure," Alison says. "That's what they want you to think."

Haroldes laughter starts up again, and Bennett gets up from his chair, shaking his head. "Don't mind them," He says to Haroldes.

"Mind them? I think it's hilarious." He says, mouth twitching. Of course he does.

"Lovely." Bennet flatlines, and Haroldes laughs at that too.

"Everything okay?" Mr. Oaken's voice calls over from the doorway, sounding a little alarmed, and all of them look over. Bennett realizes then that all them standing clustered in the same row must look a little strange.

"Absolutely," Haroldes responds, and plants a hand on the table behind him to vault over it. Bennett turns away as he makes a sour face, because knowing Haroldes, he'd probably laugh.

"Alright then," Mr. Oaken says, still sounding a little off-put, but eventually he gets over it as the others wander in and they get into the swing of things.

Haroldes sits behind him again, and Bennett tries to stay focused on the vocabulary practice instead of focusing on the way he feels Haroldes' presence behind him, somehow radiating warmth despite the distance.

* * *

 

The Spelling Bee comes in, and Bennett thinks that for the first time in his life, he doesn't feel prepared.

"Ready to go?" Haroldes whispers to him when they're waiting by the side with the rest of the group, school bracelets hanging around their wrists. It's some sort of obnoxious neon green colour, because they're the Barracuda Blades and somehow the School Board thought that was an appropriate colour to match. What's worse is that they're the hosting school this time, so the room is filled with banners in matching colours. Bennett at least hopes it distracts the other competitors.

"I'm ready," Bennett says back, steady. He isn't ready, he isn't.

"Austin Haroldes," The coordinator calls, and Haroldes pats Bennett on the back before he ascends the steps. He completely nails his word on the first try, not needing a definition, origin, or the use of it in a sentence, and looking completely assured of himself. He comes back down to their row of seats grinning, and slaps a couple of the team's hands before dropping into the seat next to Bennett.

Haroldes leans back in his seat, tipping the chair onto its back legs. Bennett presses his lips together and doesn't say anything.

Bennett gets called after a couple more kids go, and he gets up, walks with the same confident stride he has memorized in his bones, even if he feels like he can't keep it as a half truth the way he usually feels in competitions. Today he's running on trained instinct.

He gets the word belligerent, and a snide part of his mind wants to link the word to Haroldes face, the way Alison had said that if you looked up overachiever you'd see Bennett's face. He doesn't though, just smiles his competition smile, and says the words in the assured tone he's cultivated through years of practice at these things.

Cooper is the first to get cut out of their group, losing on the word frankincense, looking so bewildered by the word that Haroldes lets out a snort before he manages to contain himself. When he passes them he mouths an utterly confused "What?" Bennett shoots a glance over at Luc, wondering if he's upset that his best friend has already lost out, but he's only staring resolutely at the floor, lips pressed together to keep from laughing.

Everyone else in the group slowly falls out until only Bennett and Haroldes are left, though they remain in a huddled group at the side of the room, cheering on who's left. Eventually the two of them manage to beat out everyone else from the other schools, and the Principal looks overjoyed that two of their own will be taking first and second and moving on to Regionals.

Bennett isn't sharing such celebratory feelings just yet.

It takes few rounds of just the two of them going back and forth, but eventually it's decided. And Bennett... loses.

He gets taken out by the word Archdiocese, which is ridiculous in his opinion, because who studies what the word is for a district under an archbishop's jurisdiction?

The club swarms them as he and Haroldes descend the stage, and Bennett gives a wane smile to the group members that dwell on him before moving over to congratulate Haroldes. Because he won, in the end. He's the one who deserves the praise, not Bennett.

No one notices when he slips out the auditorium back to the club room.

Bennett manages to make it in, grateful for the way he always keeps the key to the room on his school lanyard. (Being club president has its perks.) He wanders around the room for a little while, before finally settling into his usual chair.

He feels like something's absent, but he can't figure out what it is.

Bennett doesn't know how long he sits there for, staring down at his hands, furrowing his brows as he tries for the first time in his life to find not the answer but even so much as the question. He tries to be soothed by the sound of the clock quietly ticking away over the silence, but he isn't.

The door clicks open, and Bennett looks up, startled. A response starts to weight his tongue, something he isn't entirely sure of yet, something to say to Mr. Oaken to explain why he's in the room.

Then Bennett spots Austin Haroldes, and the words die on his tongue. He belatedly realizes that he'd forgotten to lock the door behind him.

"I thought you might be here," Haroldes says, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking around the room. He steps leisurely towards Bennett, something of a swagger to his stride that Bennett vaguely thinks makes him look more stumbling than confident.

"How astute of you," Bennett bites out, raising his head and clenching his hands on his knees.

Haroldes just raises an eyebrow, and while Bennett knows it's the most common response from Haroldes to him by now, the look is marginally less sardonic than usual. He didn't think it was possible for a cocked eyebrow to look so gentle and pitying, so quietly questioning. Bennett wants to hit him.

"You haven't lost the entire world, Ben." Haroldes says, walking up the row towards him. Bennett's suddenly struck by deja vu, like it's a week ago and Haroldes is walking up and is going to plant a foot on the chair in front of him any second.

"I'm aware of that." Bennett says. "Is there anything else you want to tell me that I already know?"

Haroldes snorts at that, and Bennett clenches his teeth. "I have never met anyone like you before in my entire life."

"I'm flattered." Bennett says flatly, and then stands, because Haroldes is wasting his time and he would really just like to leave now, thank you very much.

Haroldes moves suddenly, throwing his arms out to block Bennett's path. Bennett's hands curl into fists, his nails biting into his palm, because everything in him is tense and coiled, and while not all of his anger is at Haroldes, enough of it is that Bennett's not opposed to decking him in the face.

"You're just going to quit?" Haroldes says quietly, staring intently down at Bennett. Bennett hates that he's taller, than he can look down at Bennett like he belongs to be held above him.

"I'm not quitting," Bennett spits. "I went through that competition until the end, and I lost, so would you please leave me alone? You won, are you happy? You won."

"I know," Haroldes says, and Bennett grinds his teeth together. "And here you are ready to walk out the second you've lost."

"I'm not walking out." Bennett hisses, low and dangerous. He's never heard his voice sound like that before. He feels like it should alarm him, but it makes him feel powerful.

"Really? Because that's what it looks like to me?"

"I was here first. You came in. I wanted to be alone, so I'm leaving."

"Yeah, and walking out."

Bennett takes a small step forward, and Haroldes eyes flicker down to the movement, before they focus back on his face. For the first time since he's met this stupid boy, since the first time that Haroldes waltzed into his life and starting knocking down everything Bennett had spent time carefully building, he bares his teeth and says what he's thinking.

"Listen," He says, and his voice is low and steady in a way that belies the fact that he feels like he's shaking up inside. "I don't know what is with you, but since the first day you showed up, you've thought it was hilarious to aggravate me. I don't know what exactly about me makes you think I'm set up to be your own personal entertainment, but you might as well get knocked off that track right now, because I'm  _sick of it_."

Haroldes, instead of looking cowed and apologetic, has the gall to  _smile_. "Oh really? I hadn't noticed."

"You asshole," Bennett bites. "The world does not revolve around you. You may be smart, maybe even smarter than me," Bennett has to swallow bile at admitting that at loud, "but you can bet that I'm not about to bend over and grovel to you. I'm not going down without a fight, and if I spend this whole time just making things harder for you, then I'll damn take it, because you don't deserve an easy ascent to getting everything I have."

Something flashes over Haroldes faces, but it's gone before Bennett can catch it. "Are you done talking yet?" he drawls.

"Make me," Bennett snarls.

Haroldes suddenly moves his arms from being spread out to approaching Bennett, or more precisely his face, and Bennett barely manages to quell his instinct to flinch before he registers the fact that each of Haroldes' hands are on his face, large enough to cover the whole of his cheeks with burning warmth and have his fingertips digging up into Bennett's hair.

Bennett blinks, and then Haroldes is stepping closer, face lowering - and is kissing him.

Bennett's entire body locks up, and a small breath escapes him. Haroldes takes advantage of his parted lips to press his bottom lip into the space, and then for what Bennett thinks is the first time in his life, he stops thinking altogether.

Bennett feels too hot, the press of Haroldes mouth entirely foreign, but somehow something instinctive manages to overtake him, and he's pushing back into it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he's sure it's sloppy, unfinessed, something Bennett never is in  _anything_ , but he's never had any practice at this, has never kissed anyone before, and while it's fucked up that the first is  _Haroldes_ , Bennett doesn't have enough space in his head for that to be at the forefront.

Haroldes makes some sort of sound into Bennett's mouth, and it makes something spark down his spine. Haroldes fingers twist a little more tightly into Bennett's hair, and oh right, Bennett has hands too somewhere around here, and they come up and clutch at Haroldes shoulders.

"Holy shit, Ben," Haroldes mutters. Bennett remembers then who this is, how it started. He doesn't pull away though, he doesn't want to be the weak one to chicken out, and so somehow he turns the kiss into something vicious, digs his fingers into Haroldes shoulders, hopes that he can feel it through his leather jacket. He bites Haroldes lower lip and pulls it into his mouth, sucking on it not so much to soothe the sting but to remind him of the power Bennett holds here, in this moment.

Haroldes breathing has turned heavy, and Bennett has no idea when that happened, but he can feel the hot wash of it over his face. The feel of it makes something hot curl in his stomach.

The two of them pull back at the same time, because of course Bennett can't even win that. At least he didn't look like he was desperately following Haroldes' mouth when he broke off, though.

They both stand there for what is probably only a minute or two but feels like an eternity to Bennett, staring at each other, trying to even their breathing. Bennett feels out of sorts, he can feel that his hair is messy and his shirt is crooked, even if he has no idea how that happened since he's pretty sure Haroldes never got his hands anywhere besides his face.

"Well," Haroldes says finally. "That wasn't how I expected that to go."

Bennett scowls at him, and a smile twitches at the corner of Haroldes' mouth. "And to think they call you the Ice Queen."

"I hate that nickname," Bennett says, without knowing where the words come from.

Haroldes just hums though, eyes scanning his face. "Of course you do."

Bennett gives Haroldes a critical look, and then a smile really does pull onto his face, but it's the same crooked one that Bennett has come to dread. "I know, I'll call you Netter." he says.

" _Netter?_ " Bennett repeats incredulously.

"Yeah, Netter. For how you net points for our team. Matches your name, Ben _nett_." And then he actually  _winks_.

"You're an idiot," Bennett says. "I don't understand how you won that goddamn Spelling Bee."

"And you're a better kisser than I thought," Haroldes says, and then turns to leave, and Bennett can only blink at him and watch as he goes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then the meeting for those interested in Debate Team is held. When Bennett walks into the room, Haroldes is already sitting there, swiping his thumb across the screen of his phone.
> 
> Bennett wants to be upset, or angry, or even just surprised, but he sort of already knew this was coming, even if he hadn't completely acknowledged it consciously.

Bennett comes into class the next day feeling out of sorts, and it burns him up inside, that one person can throw him so thoroughly off-balance. He sits and takes his books out, stacking and re-stacking them, straightening the edges.

Haroldes comes in, and Bennett grits his teeth, focusing more resolutely on his crisp lines. No matter how he tilts it, no matter how slightly he tries to angle it, it still looks crooked.

"Did the book do something to you, Netter?"

"No," Bennett says, still focused on the book stack. He doesn't look over at Haroldes. He doesn't stop fiddling either, because sometimes he gets self-conscious when Peter teases him and stops, and he's not willing to give Haroldes that satisfaction.

"Well you're certainly very committed to detail," Haroldes drawls. Bennett presses his lips together, and moves the bottom left edge of the stack over slightly. The line still looks jagged.

"I'll take that as a compliment,"

Haroldes hums. "If you say so, second place."

Bennett freezes, and he can feel in the air the way Haroldes' smile spreads, satisfied.

He doesn't say another word to Haroldes, doesn't bother to turn around to acknowledge him. He does respond to Mr. Kyburn though, tries to contribute as much to English class as he can, because he  _is_  good at English and spelling, results of the competition be damned.

 

* * *

 

"Hey, I didn't see you earlier," Peter says when Bennett comes up to his locker.

"Went to class early," he replies, unable to keep it from sounding slightly clipped.

The jovial look on Peter's face fades a little. "Oh. I see." He pauses a second, and Bennett looks over at him to prompt for the words he has caught. "Any reason why?"

Bennett shrugs, and it comes out jerky. "I just wanted to be there early."

Out of the corner of his eye, Bennett watches Bridget and Alison exchange a glance.

"No reason?" Bridget says gently, and Bennett looks over to her, brow cocking up critically. Bridget shrinks back slightly, and Bennett feels dim guilt stir in him.

"Just... wanted to get a jump on English." He elaborates, and then compresses his mouth to shut out anything else he could say, digging into his books.

Realization sparks over Bridget's face, and Bennett has to fight not to duck in further to his locker space. He doesn't want to feel like he's hiding.

"Well, I hardly see why you'd have to do that so soon after you pulled second in the Spelling Bee," Bridget says slowly, and Bennett barely keeps from rolling his eyes, knowing the words are more to pull Peter and Alison into the loop than to be said to Bennett.

"Yes! You did so well," Alison jumps in, and she lies a hand on Bennett's shoulder. Bennett stares at it until she drops it, and she looks over at Bridget and bites her lip.

Awkward silence falls around Bennett, and he goes back to rearranging the books he'll need for his next class. "You don't have to treat me like that. Competition's over."

"Is it?" Peter asks, and Bennett looks over at him incredulity. Of course it's over, it already happened. "Is it over for you?"

"It happened, I'm done." Bennett says, which doesn't really answer the question, which Peter knows by the look on his face. Bennett bites his lip for a second, narrows his focus using the sting, and then straightens up and lets it go. "Look, I'm fine. I pulled second, but I'll live."

"You'll get him next time," Peter says, but it sounds more like empty words than something said with conviction, and Bennett just lets them all pat him on the back and disperse to their classes.

Even when they're gone, and he's alone with enough air, he still doesn't feel like he has enough space.

 

* * *

 

"So," Haroldes says when he drops into the seat behind Bennett before Physics class starts, "What's the next competition I have to look forward to?"

Bennett can't help it, he turns around and stares at Haroldes incredulously.

One side of Haroldes mouth hitches up into a slight smile. "Just wondering what I have to aim for,"

Bennett just barely manages to keep from rolling his eyes. "Ask Mr. Oaken, I'm sure he'd know."

"Maybe," Haroldes replies, leaning forward and bracing his arms onto his desk, crowding Bennett in slightly. Bennett curbs the urge to pull further away, "But that isn't nearly as much fun as asking you."

Bennett smiles at him, absolutely no humour in the expression. "Of course."

Haroldes' mouth twitches a little higher on the same side. "Life of the party, you are."

"I'm serious about what I care about," Bennett says, frowning.

"I got that much."

Bennett sighs, and then runs a hand through his hair, pushing the mass of it off his face. Haroldes' eyes follow the motion, but flicker back down when Bennett starts to speak. "Based on the last few years, it's probably the debate regionals next, but that's more of a debate thing than a general Scholastic Club event." He watches Haroldes' face carefully to see if there's any indication he'll jump at the chance for one more club and one more opportunity to push Bennett. In the end there's nothing, so Bennett goes on. "If you're looking for more Scholastic Club sort of things, I think you'll have to wait a while. First up would probably be the regional mathletes' competitions, and then the robotics competition, though we don't always do that. Then Spelling Bee Regionals, which you'll obviously be in. Then Science Olympics, and more Mathletes, and the Spelling Bee Finals. The Scholastic Decathlon generally wraps the whole thing up. That's the big one for us at the end of the year, with all the maths and sciences."

Haroldes' face is too blank for Bennett to read, but whether that's because he's genuinely not feeling as much about the conversation or because he's guarding his expression, Bennett can't tell. "And I bet you do all of those."

Bennett shrugs, not sure if it's an insult, though based on everything that's been said or implied between them so far, he assumes it probably is. "I try."

Haroldes shakes his head. "You're something else, Netter."

Bennett can't think of what to say to that, so he settles for "I'm me."

"You are." Haroldes reaffirms. "And I suppose there's something to that too."

* * *

 

Two days later, the meeting for those interested in Debate Team is held. When Bennett walks into the room, Haroldes is already sitting there, swiping his thumb across the screen of his phone.

Bennett wants to be upset, or angry, or even just surprised, but he sort of already knew this was coming, even if he hadn't completely acknowledged it consciously.

Bennett can feel Cooper and Luc enter then at the same time, crowding up at Bennett's back. He doesn't bother to look over at them, he knows it's them and he knows that they're there. Besides, neither of them are focused on him either.

"I suppose you're a kickass public speaker too, then?" Cooper calls over Bennett's shoulder to Haroldes.

Haroldes looks up then, seeming completely unfazed by the fused mass of the three of them watching him. "I like to think I'm pretty good, yeah."

Cooper snorts. "I wonder how close his definition of 'pretty good' is to the rest of us," he mutters, and Luc reaches behind Bennett's back to jab Cooper in the side.

Bennett steps forward, mostly out of a will to avoid the shoving match that's likely to break out between the other two boys. He sits at the end of the row, leaving two seats between them. He's glad that Cooper and Luc are there so that it looks like an excuse.

"Hey," Haroldes says, and Bennett looks over at him, eyebrow raised. "Are they together?"

Bennett doesn't smile, but he can feel the corner of his mouth twitch. He intends to just give a no, but instead what comes out is "Not yet."

Haroldes snorts.

Bennett's grateful when Cooper and Luc drop into the seats separating them.

"So," Bennett says to Cooper, voice drawling and slightly sardonic, "Frankincense?"

Cooper makes a disgruntled face, and Luc breaks down into laughter.

"It's a fucking stupid word," Cooper insists, sounding close to whining. "It sounds like Frankenstein suddenly became Buddhist and got a thing for incense."

Luc manages to gasp out through his laughter, "It's spelled exactly like the combination of those words!"

Cooper turns on him, pointing a finger at his face. "But it's  _stupid_."

"I'm so glad you're a history guy." Bennett comments, and Cooper throws him a scathing look that Bennett can clearly see through.

"I'm sorry, Mr. All Around. Some of us have specified talents."

"Are you talking about your ability to down a hot dog in three consecutive bites?" Luc chirps, and Cooper smacks him in the shoulder.

"Shut it," he commands.

Luc waves off a mocking salute. "Yes, Commodore."

"Don't be a brat."

"Hypocrite."

Haroldes snorts, and Luc and Cooper turn to him, blinking, looking like they forgot he was there. They probably did, knowing the both of them. They either get focused on each other, or they get so used to acting the way they do around Bennett and the other scholastic club members that they forget when they're in front of other people too.

Cooper says something to Luc in what even Bennett can tell is badly accented French, and Luc snorts. "Seriously, stop trying to use French as our secret code language to talk about others in front of them. You barely understand it, and what you do understand you suck at speaking."

"I do  _not_."

"Fine. What were René and I talking about this morning?"

Cooper doesn't saying anything, which is an answer in itself.

"That's what I thought," Luc says, and he sounds exasperated, but there's a fondness in it too. "Leave the cliquey French usage to René and I, okay?"

"Fine, but if you make a really good joke or comment, you have to fill me in later."

"As if I wouldn't," Luc says, bumping his shoulder. Cooper looks unwillingly appeased.

Haroldes leans back in his chair, looking directly at Bennett. Bennett gives a flatly questioning stare in reply.

 _René or Cooper?_  Haroldes mouths at him.

Bennett rolls his eyes, but mouths back  _Cooper_.

Bennett's known them long enough to know that there's never really been a contest.

Ms. Pursbury sweeps into the room, long skirt swirling about her legs and hoops jangling in her ears. She smiles broadly, the same smile Bennett's seen for all of his years in this school. He's fairly sure it's her basic expression.

"Hello everyone!" She says, smile bright. Before she can continue, René comes into the room, looking completely unrepentant. She takes one look at their row, blinks, and then seats herself directly behind Luc instead of beside Haroldes.

Ms. Pursbury, being one of the most relaxed teachers in the school, merely waits until she's seated and then carries on. Cooper and Haroldes pay attention to her, but Bennett watches Luc and René, and his instincts are proven right when René leans over and says something into Luc's ear that makes him flush all the way down to his throat.

When René sits back, she's smirking. Luc looks like he's trying to sink into himself and disappear.

Bennett doesn't know what the whole thing is about, but he figures that it isn't really his business anyways.

"First of all, I want to say welcome to all our new members, and welcome back to all our returning ones!" Mrs. Pursbury looks so excited that Bennett almost feels like he has to break it to her that there's only about a dozen of them in the room, and the number's just as likely to drop. "We usually have a debate once or twice every month, and we meet once a week. Today we're going to start to prepare for our debates two weeks from now, so all of you can pull your topic out of my hat." With a flourish, she pulls the familiar striped bowler hat from the drawer. "If your topic is the same as someone else and written in the same colour, you're on the same team! Each topic is either written in blue for the positive side, or red for the negative.

She dances around the room, holding the hat out to each person. Bennett pulls out a piece, unfolds it, and then reads the words  _Is the Death Penalty a viable punishment?_  written in red ink.

After they've each read their pieces of paper, Cooper and Luc immediately exchange, and then high five each other. Ben guesses that they got the same topic. Again. It's nearly eerie the number of times they manage to get matched up, to the point where Bennett wonders if they haven't come up with a way to cheat the system.

"What'd you get, Ben?" Cooper asks, leaning across Luc to look at his sheet. Ben holds his up in reply, and Cooper reads it and then frowns contemplatively. "Not bad."

Haroldes leans across Cooper then, and Bennett gives him a critical glance in reply. "Hey, me too. Same colour, too. Guess we're teammates."

Bennett locks his jaw, and then carefully lays his paper down on the table.

Luc and Cooper exchange a glance, and the Luc turns around. "René?"

René holds her slip up, and when Luc smiles and holds his up in reply, she grins smugly. "You're going to have trouble taking me out."

"I'm sure," Luc says back.

"The both of us together?" Cooper cuts in. "You don't stand a chance."

René sneers openly at him. Cooper pushes his nose up and makes a snorting pig noise in reply. Luc rolls his eyes and turns back around.

"What do you think, Ben?" Luc asks, eyeing Bennett a little more carefully than he'd like.

"I think that I'm going to find out firsthand just how good Austin is at debating," Bennett replies, and tucks his slip carefully in among his books.

* * *

 

Haroldes catches up to Bennett shortly after debate club ends. "So, we're a team."

Bennett side eyes Haroldes, unsure of what he wants. "We are."

"Ready to work together?" Haroldes throws an arm over Bennett's shoulders. Bennett shrugs it off.

"We'll each research on our own, and then come together with all of it later." Bennett says, and then steps away from Haroldes. "And we were already on the same team for Scholastic Club, we're not anywhere new."

Bennett thinks he shouldn't be surprised when Haroldes just smiles, curling and satisfied. "Are you sure we're not playing for the same team too?"

Bennett scowls at him. "Do you agree or not?"

Haroldes steps back then, shoving his hands into his pockets and shrugging.

"Good," Bennett confirms, clipped. Then he turns and walks away.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knows he's not completely in the right; he knows he's being unreasonable and bringing his emotions out in the wrong way, but he's the one who's always calm and in control, and for everyone else to have moods and act all over the place is normal, but Bennett shows a crack and suddenly everyone's pushing at him to cover it up.
> 
> He grits his teeth and stares Alison down, and it probably looks furious, which he hates to show, but really it's more out of hurt, and that would be a much worse thing to have displayed, so he picks his battles.

Bennett comes home to an empty house, a note on the counter that reads that his Mom is going to be working late and that he's on his own for dinner. He pulls out some of the leftover noodles from last nights dinner and some vegetables to make stir fry, putting his laptop on the counter to research in between stirring and monitoring it.

He comes up with some case studies, some arguments, some arguments for the other side and counter arguments specifically in response. He takes a break to eat, and the mushrooms are a little rubbery, but otherwise it's good.

Bennett thinks that he probably has enough research, but still goes further, gathering as much detail as he can and multiple sources to support specific points and facts. He doesn't want Haroldes to come with twice the research when they meet up, clearer points and more compelling arguments. He doesn't want to be shown up and then met with Haroldes' crooked smile, smug and wicked, making bitterness rise in Bennett's chest.

It's late in the evening when Bennett finally cleans up all the dishes, and his mom still isn't home. He's nearly ready for bed when the phone rings, and Bennett cocks an eyebrow, but goes to answer it. He doesn't recognize the number, but picks up anyways. His Mom hosts enough colleagues and co-workers and friends that he usually doesn't know the number.

"Hello?" he says, a little sharp and questioning.

"Hey Netter," he hears, and barely resists either smashing the phone or his head into the wall.

"Austin," he says, voice as pleasant as he can make it. "What are you calling at this time for?"

"It's only ten," Haroldes says, sounding amused.

"I'm aware," Bennett replies dryly, and then shifts the phone to his shoulder, where he can pin it with his chin. He focuses his attention on sorting through what he needs for tomorrow, his books and clothes laid out. "Now?"

"Wanted to talk project," Haroldes says.

"That excited?" Bennett asks, completely skeptical.

"Absolutely," Haroldes answers, and Bennett can actually  _hear_  the mocking tone to it, smooth like syrup in whiskey.

Bennett barely manages to keep from clenching his teeth when he replies, "great."

"So, what have you got?"

"A lot. It would be easier to show all my notes to you tomorrow, instead of explaining them again over the phone." Bennett says, trying to stall, push any interaction until as late as possible. He's never a procrastinator, never has been, but this isn't a reluctance to work or feeling of being overwhelmed, instead it's just the way Haroldes seems to dig under his skin, like the sound of his voice is digging barbs into Bennett that scrape whenever he tries to pull away.

"I know, but there were some things I wanted to discuss before I lose the steam for them, or forget where I was going with it."

Bennett doubts that's really possible for the easy genius of Haroldes. He doesn't have any reason to brush him off though, and he's done setting everything up for tomorrow, so he doesn't have anything left to do with his hands. In the end he settles on his bed, crossing his legs, surrounded by comfort and familiarity while Haroldes' voice spikes irritation down his spine, completely out of place.

"Alright, shoot," Bennett says.

"Okay, so I was looking at the statistics of murder accusations based on race during the twentieth century, and how that could tie into our argument against the death penalty because of false accusations."

"Are you sure we can use that, though? I mean, it could be argued that as it's in the past in mostly doesn't apply, and our argument isn't centered about the racist attitudes still existing today."

"No, but it shows how attitudes and biases make it so that justice is never really blind, and so there will always be those that are falsely accused, especially based on existing prejudices and biases of the time..."

The two of them fall into discussion, and when Haroldes finally stutters into a yawn partway through and Bennett checks the time, he's surprised to see that over an hour's passed. He'd gotten so caught up in the conversation that the itch under his skin had completely faded away. He wonders if it was the words themselves or that Haroldes had changed the way he said his that kept Bennett from noticing the way time slipped passed them.

Haroldes notices the lull in Bennett's response. "Getting tired, Netter?" He asks, and there's that returning hint of taunting.

"Of course not," Bennett replies, and hopes that his mother won't notice if he's still on the phone when she comes home.

* * *

 

Bennett's blinking a little sleepily at the table the next morning, and he knows that almost everyone else in his grade would call him lame for getting tired for staying up until a half hour after one on only one school night, but he can't help it. He's stayed up that late and later for projects before, but it's been a while, and he hasn't managed to get his hands on any coffee. (Either this morning or the night before.)

His mother notices.

"You seem tired," she says, frowning. "Stayed up finishing a project?"

"Yeah, something like that," Bennett replies, dragging the heel of his hand over one eye. Haroldes probably got more sleep than him, but Bennett couldn't keep from fleshing out his facts and arguments after he'd discussed a good piece of their debate with Haroldes. So, he fell asleep later. He's mentally crossing his fingers that the deprivation will end up to his advantage, rather than detriment.

"You should manage your time better. If you did more work during school and when you got home, you could finish in time to get some sleep." She admonishes, back turned to him at the counter. She's got a bowl of granola and fruit on the counter, because despite his mother's avoidance of cooking, she still values healthy eating. He doesn't know how she manages it sometimes. Probably some relation to her salary, if he had to guess; maybe she gets her personal secretary to stock the fridge with healthy foods when the two of them are both out.

"I know, Mom," He says, and she throws him a sharp look. He bites his lip instead of rolling his eyes. "Yes, Mother."

"Good," she says decisively. She takes her bag off of the island, and kisses Bennett on the cheek on her way out. "Work hard today," she adds, switching from Japanese to English, like she does every morning before she leaves. Bennett wonders if she tests her English on him before she goes, just to check that none of her accent slips through, so that then it doesn't come out in front of someone important.

"I will," he affirms, and she sweeps out of the room.

* * *

 

Bennett makes himself a cup of coffee after his mother's left, and he figures that will be enough to power him through the morning. He doesn't know what he's going to do in the afternoon, but he figures he can probably loop at least one person into a coffee run during lunch. (Probably Peter or Cooper, who stay up because of the new baby sibling in the house or because they're playing video games, respectively.)

Haroldes looks completely normal walking into first period English, and Bennett hates him for it a little.

"Fun evening, Netter?" He says cheerfully.

Bennett shoots him a baleful look and then pulls his books out.

"Oh yes, I can just see a rich and fulfilling afternoon in the exuberance of your expression," Haroldes chirps. Bennett props his head in his hands and sulks, because he has totally done this to himself.

Bennett's grateful Mr. Kyburn comes in then.

Mr. Kyburn actually stops in the middle of the room, and Bennett blinks at his shoes for a moment before looking up, finding that he's the one being stared at.

"Bennett?" Mr. Kyburn asks, a little dubious. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," Bennett replies, with some bemusement. He's seen kids fall completely  _asleep_  in this class; why is he getting singled out for having his head down a moment? Of course when he's actually tired, he can't catch a break.

He works as hard as he can in class, trying to keep up to his usual speed. He thinks he's doing comparatively well; Haroldes isn't inputting as much today, tough whether it's just an occasional off day or an indication of a new pattern, Bennett doesn't know. He doesn't give himself much room to hope for the latter.

Haroldes hangs around after class, lagging by Bennett's desk as everyone else leaves.

"What do you want?" Bennett asks, a little weariness and irritation seeping into his tone.

Haroldes doesn't answer right away, instead bends to the side in an odd way of trying to get a look at Bennett's face. "You okay?"

Bennett pins him with a scathing look. "Fine," he bites.

Haroldes straightens back up, shrugging. "You just look a little washed out, I suppose. Grey isn't really a flattering colour on anyone."

Bennett presses his lips together. "Thank you for the concern."

Haroldes smiles immediately, but his eyes are flat, the smile fake and mockingly cheerful. "Anytime, my dear friend."

Bennett doesn't even try to hide his irritation when he leaves this time, pushing passed Haroldes and out into a space where he can actually breathe and think in peace for longer than a minute.

* * *

 

Bennett nearly bites Cooper's head off when he approaches their lockers.

"Benny-Ben!" He calls, cheery and smiling. Luc shoots him a censoring look, but Cooper seems to miss it completely. Not that it matters, he doesn't seem to have much of a filter regardless, and Luc's quiet disapproval seems to make no difference.

"For the last fucking time," Bennett spits, and Cooper looks so shocked you'd think that Bennett had just recited the entire french alphabet backwards.

"Wow, bad nickname," Peter says, also looking slightly shell shocked. Bennett locks his jaw and shoots Peter a glare, because he's sort of not in the mood to take Peter's abundant backhanded insults today. Peter quiets at Bennett's look, dropping his eyes.

"Ben," Alison says, sounding disapproving enough that it makes Bennett stiffen. What, they can all argue with each other call each other names, but the minute Bennett so much as mirrors that in the slightest, or pushes back against it because he's already been pushed up against a wall, he's completely in the wrong.

He knows he's not completely in the right; he knows he's being unreasonable and bringing his emotions out in the wrong way, but he's the one who's always calm and in control, and for everyone else to have moods and act all over the place is normal, but Bennett shows a crack and suddenly everyone's pushing at him to cover it up.

He grits his teeth and stares Alison down, and it probably looks furious, which he hates to show, but really it's more out of hurt, and that would be a much worse thing to have displayed, so he picks his battles.

"Stop it," Alison snaps, and Bennett closes his eyes, can feel himself begin to start shutting down.

"Stop what?" Bennett hears from behind him, the voice of the person he couldn't possibly want to see less than anyone else at the moment.

"Stop being a dick," Bennett bites out, humiliated but in the way that he knows he deserves it, like when he was six and being scolded by his babysitter for breaking a toy, like when he lost the math round for the team in his freshmen year at the decathlon, like when he was the only kid whose parents weren't willing to come for the recital that his entire piano school was participating in.

He takes his books and walks away from the confrontation, dodging Haroldes without looking at his face. He wants to tell himself he's being logical, giving everyone space to come down and cool their tempers, but it's only him. He's the problem, he's the initiator, and he's the one who should be staying to fix it. But he can't, and he's a coward.

He stews all of Biology for it.

* * *

 

Bennett gets to his locker as quickly as he can, switches out his books and heads off to Physics as quickly as he can. He hates himself while he does it, but he can't seem to make himself stop.

He's setting out his books, lining up his pens and pencils beside it, when Haroldes walks up. Bennett thinks for a moment that Haroldes is just going to keep walking, to sit behind Bennett in his usual seat, but then he stops. Any doubt Bennett's entertaining dies the minute his down-turned gaze watches Haroldes dig his hands into the pockets of his pants, and Bennett knows he's stopped for a conversation.

He takes a deep breath, bracing, before he looks up. Haroldes eyes are blue, like a clear summer sky, the way he remembers the colour of the Pacific looking as it stretched out beneath him on one of his few flights to Japan, the sky and water a mirror of each other stretching out to where they met at the horizon. It's a memory of space and freedom, but now Bennett only feels pinned down, like a butterfly under glass, a careful specimen that's to look at but not to touch.

Neither of them says anything for a minute, quiet. Bennett breaks it this time, dropping his eyes as he speaks, "No matter what you may say about what I don't know, I know this time. You don't have to tell me."

Haroldes is still quiet, for long enough that Bennett feels forced to look up. "How is it that I piss you off, insult you, kiss you, and yet the thing that gets to you is asking you're okay?  _How_  does your brain work?"

Bennett's actually startled into a laugh. "Those pissed me off. I just didn't want to show you'd made me angry enough to win."

Haroldes arcs an eyebrow. "And today?"

Bennett presses his lips together, pushing his fingers into the tabletop until the tips turn white. "Mr. Kyburn singled me out, and then you seemed to think it was hilarious to mimic that, though I can't figure out what the hell for. I don't know what you want, what you're aiming for, why you're acting the way you do all the time, and today just seemed the prime example." He drops his voice into a mimic of Haroldes, unable to keep the immature reaction locked away, despite his better judgement. "  _'Are you okay? Oh, you are? That's nice, I was just asking because you looked like shit, not that you look good on any given day. Oh, you're leaving? Don't worry, I'll mock you later in Physics, and Math too! Toodles._ ' "

To Bennett's surprise, Haroldes throws his head back and laughs. Bennett watches him for a moment, too bewildered to do much more than blink at the way Haroldes has  _completely lost his mind_.

Eventually he does calm down, but then he just kind of shakes his head at Bennett, an entirely different kind of crooked smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, like it's involuntary and he could only manage enough effort to keep the one side down.

Bennett isn't sure what to think of it.

"I owe you some more credit than I've given you, Netter," Haroldes says, sounding amused, and Bennett has no idea what he means by that, but he isn't sure he wants the answer if he were to ask.

"I'm glad my asshole tendencies are endearing to you," Bennett replies, entirely too washed out for this.

Haroldes must be able to see it in his eyes, or maybe just hear it in his voice, because he stills a little bit, looking at Bennett carefully. Bennett hates that look, the way he feels like it turns him into bare bones and skin, but he doesn't want to show it by squirming. "You're not an asshole," Haroldes says, and Bennett blinks at him, so surprised by the words that he can't register them enough to begin to feel a response. "You're just snippy, and serious, and one of those people who tend to bottle things up and get shaken up until they explode, or at least the top pops off."

"That was a wonderful metaphor," Bennett comments dryly.

Haroldes winks. "It is, why thank you. I believe it's also somewhat apt. Watch your bottle volume, Netter. I think you're catching too much of the wrong things."

He pats Bennett on the shoulder before he moves back to his desk, but Bennett isn't as focused on it as he might otherwise be, now that Haroldes has put some interesting thoughts into his head.

The phone conversation, and this one, while proving that Haroldes isn't the fantastic human being everyone seems to believe he is, he also has some real intelligence to provide, and Bennett thinks that maybe, just maybe, that the two different methods of their intelligence might actually compliment each other enough that things could be figured out.

For the first time, he lets himself think not of the debate as a competition of proving himself against Haroldes by arguing better when held beside him, but instead as the competition he thrives, one team against another, setting their wits up against each other for the rush of competitive drive, to put Bennett in a place where he knows he can just let his mind work. He loves the feeling of just letting himself get swept up in it, ideas he'd never even considered before coming in the heat of the moment, his mind like a machine hitting the prime setting, the spinning of gears and spit of pistons all working in perfect synchronicity.

This might not be the debate that matters, but Bennett thinks they might be beginning to set the stage. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm not a china doll," Bennett hisses. He wishes he was taller, that he could get up into Haroldes face, instead of being looked down on and taking it passively.
> 
> "No, you're definitely not," Haroldes affirms, and there's a bit of a quirk to his lips, like there's anything funny at all about this situation.

Bennett creeps around for a couple days, careful of everyone else and what he says and does around them, lets everything settle for him before he deals with everyone else. He knows he needs to apologize, one way or another, but he isn't entirely sure how.

The first time he acts awkward and stilted during conversation at the locker bank, Haroldes looks so overly amused and joyed by it that Bennett has to resist glaring at him, grits his teeth and pretends like he doesn't notice in the least.

They leave the debate alone for a few days, and Bennett's relieved for the reprieve but still feels the need for a distraction, an itch under his skin. He finds it harder to sleep, lies awake waiting for it unless he's tired himself out enough to fall under without dreaming. He gets into a habit of keeping himself occupied, studying all of his subjects and researching for the debate and doing small tasks and organizing for student council, pushing later and later nights, feeling more and more worn on the passing mornings.

He thinks that it's probably noticeable, but he hopes it's not too much. Haroldes would probably just think it's funny; Peter would think it's what he deserves. Maybe it is.

That's part of what makes him feel so apprehensive when Haroldes comes over to him after a club meeting, everyone else clearing out slowly, idle chatter circling around. Bennett finds that he misses it more than he thought he would, an ache in his chest, but despite being on the debate team for all of high school he still can't seem to find his words correctly.

"Netter," Haroldes voice floats over him. Bennett looks up at him, expression flat.

"What," Bennett says, and the corner of Haroldes mouth twitches.

"Now, now, I'm not allowed to just give a friendly hello?" He taunts, voice lilting.

Bennett grinds his jaw. "Nothing from you is ever friendly," he says shortly, taking his books and putting them in his bag, lifting it up over his shoulder in a jerky motion.

Haroldes steps forward, further into his space, blocking him off. Bennett can feel anger flush his face.

"Is this all you know how to do?" Bennett hisses, and is humiliated to realize that his frustration is pushing him to the edge of tears. "Do you only know how to mess with me? What is about me that makes you want to screw with me so much?"

Haroldes doesn't reply for a minute, but he doesn't move either, just staring down at Bennett. Bennett locks his jaw and stares back.

"You're easy. You pretend like nothing touches you, but everything does." Haroldes says, and Bennett feels distress rise in his chest, because he knows it's true, and if  _Haroldes_  can see that almost instantly, what does that say? What is he showing? What does everyone else see?

"Fuck off," Bennett manages to say, but it comes out croaked and hoarse. Haroldes face shifts instantly, and the blank look of before merges into something like guilt, and Bennett hates it. He doesn't want to be pitied, least of all by Haroldes. "Would you just move?" he grits out.

To Bennett's surprise, he doesn't. Instead, he drops his arms, but continues to stand there, looking at Bennett. "Look, I like messing with you. You're unbelievably serious and straight-laced, it's actually kind of hilarious to."

Bennett barely resists the urge to look down or away, instead forcing himself to meet Haroldes' eyes, unwilling to back down, even if everything is showing across his face right now.

Haroldes licks his lips, uncertainty on his face for the first time that Bennett's seen. "But I don't... I don't want to  _hurt_  you. Not this badly."

"I'm not a china doll," Bennett hisses. He wishes he was taller, that he could get up into Haroldes face, instead of being looked down on and taking it passively.

"No, you're definitely not," Haroldes affirms, and there's a bit of a quirk to his lips, like there's anything funny at all about this situation.

"Look, if you're done to trying to reassure yourself of your virtues and personal worth, could you let me leave?" Bennett snaps.

"Not yet," Haroldes says, and Bennett nearly hits him, but then he keeps talking. "Have you talked to your friends yet?"

"I thought they were  _your_  friends," Bennett dodges.

Haroldes shoots him a flat look. "They can be both."

Bennett presses his lips together, feeling cornered. He runs his hands through his hair as he takes a deep breath, preparing his words. "I'm... I'm not sure how." He admits, and it makes shame and some vague restlessness and anger bubble up, to say that out loud, to say it to Haroldes.

"Well, 'sorry' is always a good place to start," Haroldes says, dryly amused. Bennett gives him a sharp look, but it just makes the corner of Haroldes mouth curl up.

"I don't have to be your pet pity project because you feel guilty. Your actions are your problem," Bennett says, and then tries to walk around Haroldes, because he's completely done with this conversation.

Haroldes moves more quickly than he does, spreads his arms out and steps into Bennett's path. Bennett stops short, and then stares up at Haroldes, angry.

"Quit acting like such a little bitch. You want me to man up and take responsibility for how I've acted? You do the same," Haroldes says.

Bennett slowly drops his bag to the ground, and Haroldes glances at it, looking a little wary and confused, and then Bennett steps forward, until he's toe to toe with Haroldes.

"Why don't you stop with your high and mighty act? You don't have moral superiority, you don't have any real reason to come up to me and tell me what I should be doing. You aren't any better than I am," Bennett says, voice pitched low and serious.

Haroldes arches an eyebrow. "I'm so glad you have the authority on this and felt generous enough to let me know, sweetheart."

"Bennett," Bennett bites out, "my  _name_  is Bennett."

"Austin," Haroldes replies sarcastically. "My name is Austin."

Bennett shoves at Haroldes chest then, anger and frustrated and caught up in a thousand different feelings, all corked up and churning in him, turning sour. Haroldes takes a startled step back, but then moves back in, and Bennett backs up a step, and then another as Haroldes follows, stumbling over his bag and turning so that he bumps into the desk.

Haroldes closes in, and places his hands on the desk on either side of Bennett, corralling him in. Bennett looks up at him and swallows thickly, feeling like his heart is beating too hard, the sound of blood pulsing in his ears.

Haroldes leans down so that his face is close to Bennett's. "Look, I apologize for taking things too far, for hitting you deeper than I meant to, but this doesn't go one way. You had just as much involvement; you reacted to every push I gave."

"You don't get to place blame on me for all the things you initiated and pushed me into," Bennett says.

"Yes, but you're still the one who pushed your own friends away," Haroldes says, and pain sparks instantly through Bennett's chest.

"Maybe you should keep to your own business," Bennett says, steady and low, but he can still hear the furious undercurrent, like a live wire snaking across the ground.

"Maybe you should pull that stick out of your ass."

Before Bennett's entirely aware of what he's doing, he's grabbing Haroldes by the collar of his shirt, and hauling him in closer, pulling him in until their faces meet, and then crashing their lips together. Haroldes makes some sort of furious, growling noise into his mouth, and Bennett nips his lip in warning, but then Haroldes is pushing him back against the desk, the edge digging into the back of Bennett's legs.

Haroldes presses up against Bennett, and he feel the heat of him all the way down the front of his body, and it feels scalding, the same heat of their anger pushing out of their skin. The kiss is rough, even Bennett can tell that, can feel his lips bruising but has passed into somewhere beyond caring, just wants to show Haroldes all the anger that he's surfaced in Bennett. He wants to give back everything Haroldes has given him, in backhanded comments and sharp insults, he wants to feel like he can really compete with Haroldes, and if this is the one way he can do it, he'll take it.

"You're annoying as all hell, you know that?" Haroldes speaks into his mouth, the words somewhere between hissed and breathed. He pulls Bennett's bottom lip into his mouth, sucking almost viciously, and then they press together again, a mismatched line up that's half messed up with the way they're just trying to get at each other.

Bennett only pulls back far enough to speak, lips still brushing Haroldes when he tells Haroldes, "right back at you."

Haroldes makes a harsh, frustrated noise in his throat, and then pushes harder into Bennett. On a wild impulse, Bennett reaches out, putting one hand on Haroldes' hip so he can hook a finger into his belt loop, the other reaching up, clutching at the short, soft hairs at the back of Haroldes neck.

Haroldes follows his example, moving his hands, one hand palming at Bennett's back while the other spears into his hair, his hand warm on the side of Bennett head even through the thick of his hair.

"You're," Haroldes starts, interrupted between presses of their mouths together, "incredibly," another press, "obnoxious."

Bennett tilts his head and slots their mouths together more firmly, trying to shut Haroldes up.

Haroldes replies by nudging at Bennett, and Bennett has no idea what he's trying to achieve aside from being annoying, until he moves the hand on Bennett's back to the back of his thigh.

Taking the cue, Bennett hops up onto the desk, Haroldes helping to lift him a little with the hand on his thigh, but he doesn't take away the hand in Bennett's hair. They don't pull away from the kiss either, and it's awkward for a second as Haroldes leans over to bridge the gap, noses bumping, before he can push Bennett's legs apart and step into the space. They can get at each other much better from this angle, and it seems almost dirty they way their lips slide together, slick and wet, the most Bennett's ever done with anyone. Haroldes hand moves to the outside of Bennett's thigh and presses it against his side until Bennett finally hooks it around him, and realizes a little too late that he's the one sitting on the desk with his legs hooked around Haroldes, like he's the one that's there to cater to Haroldes, like he's easy.

Benett pulls away then, and Haroldes follows his mouth reflexively, before Bennett pushes at his shoulders, gets him to back up.

Haroldes stops, blinking a little bit, and both of them are breathing heavily. It takes nearly a minute of just staring at Haroldes' face, his blue eyes, trying to even his breathing and figure out  _what the hell just happened_ , before he realizes he still has his palms pressed to Haroldes chest and can feel the rise and fall of it, and then drops his hands like they've been burned.

Haroldes steps back then, giving Bennett space, and he slides off the desk, a little awkward.

Haroldes speaks first, but it's about the last thing Bennett was expecting him to say under the circumstances. "You really are a quick learner at everything, aren't you?"

Unexpectedly, a laugh jumps out of Bennett's throat, out there for the couple seconds he's too startled to tamp it down. "You're the most ridiculous, overly aggravating person I've ever met. I think that might be the only way to get you to shut up. Honestly, Austin."

Haroldes smiles. Not crookedly either, but a genuine curve of his lips, looking almost fond. Bennett feels too warm again, but more in the way like when you have on too many blankets than the scalding under his skin that their kissing had brought up. For a moment the whole thing seems surreal, like he just stepped into an alternate universe.

Haroldes takes a step back, kicking his foot out, looking awkward again all of a sudden. "I should probably go."

"Oh, so  _now_  you leave me alone?" Bennett says dryly, raising an eyebrow. Haroldes smiles, lips pressed together, looking like he's a little impressed with Bennett's comment but unwilling to say it.

"Well, don't you always leave after the kiss goodbye?" Haroldes taunts, fluttering his eyelashes.

Bennett makes a sour face. "Just get out of here."

Haroldes laughs, but ducks down to kiss Bennett on the cheek before he skirts away, grabbing his bag and booking it out of the room before Bennett can respond.

* * *

 

Bennett isn't fond of Austin, or particularly inclined to believe in or follow his advice, but in the case he hasn't been told anything that he didn't already know.

He resolves to start his apologies with Bridget. She's the most likely to be forgiving.

He knows he should do it in person, but that seems like it would be risking too much, especially since it seems like he doesn't have as much of a poker face as he thought he did. Instead, he resolves to call, so that he can keep the distance but so he can still hear them and have them hear him.

Bridget takes it well, seeming sympathetic in a way Bennett hopes isn't tied to pity, but is willing to take anyways. She forgives Bennett easily, and, relieved, he moves down his call list.

Luc snorts when he gets into the explanation of his call, waving off his apology, and Bennett is a little grumpy, but takes it anyways, unwilling to embarrass himself by pushing it. Turns out that Cooper is actually over at Luc's, (Bennett is less than surprised.) so he passes over the phone, and Cooper is a little more ruffled, a little more grumpy, but he still takes Bennett's apology.

"If it were anyone else, just a sorry wouldn't be enough to keep me from being irked with you, but you're you, so." he says, like that's some kind of explanation.

"And what about me is just so utterly charming?" Bennett asks dryly.

"Nothing," Cooper says, and Bennett rolls his eyes on the other end of the phone line. "But you're not the type to apologize easily or when you don't mean it, so, apology accepted."

Bennett's willing to take it.

Luc and Cooper bid him a cheery goodbye, Cooper beguiling him to keep talking so he doesn't have to watch Les Miserables again, before Luc loudly starts singing the French lyrics over him. They start to banter lightly, and Bennett bids them a quick goodbye and hangs up.

Jasmine's the easiest.

"We all do stupid shit," she says. "It's about time you lost your temper. Try not to do it again, especially at us, and everything's fine."

Alison is cool when she picks up the phone, and has only moderately warmed up by the time Bennett's apologized and they hang up. He can tell he still hasn't won her over again, but he can still tell that she meant it when she accepted his apology, even if he's not entirely off the hook. It's not anything less than what he was expecting, and he figures that he deserves to have to make up for his own mistake.

Comparatively, Peter is the hardest.

"That's stupid, Ben. You think that's all it takes?" Peter says, and his voice sounds mean and snide, like he's talking down to Bennett, as though Bennett's too stupid to get what Peter knows and he's mocking him instead of pitying him.

"I said I was sorry. I meant it, but you don't have to accept it," Bennett says, keeping the words steady.

"Yeah, well you said some other shit before you said sorry."

"I was having a bad day, and all of things from before had built up, and I took it out on all of you. I'm sorry," He's surprised to find the words feeling more truthful than he'd thought them to be, like the realisation had been building at the back of his mind until Bennett managed to uncover it.

"We all have bad days. That's not an excuse."

Then the line goes dead.

Bennett pulls the phone away from his ear, watching the seconds tip up for a short moment before he cuts his end of the call. He swallows the disappointment, because part of him knows that he doesn't deserve to have everything fixed easily, that everything can't go right back to the way it was.

Bennett doesn't let it bother him too much. He's learned to appreciate the merits of hard work.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has a point.
> 
> "Fine," Bennett bites out.
> 
> Haroldes smiles, all teeth. "Perfect."

Bennett's sitting in English class, waiting for the bell to ring, when Emery Alfaro comes up to him. Bennett knows it's not good right away based on the fact that Emery has his notebook in hand, pen tucked behind his ear.

"Benny," Emery says, striding up with one of the fake, show-winning smile that had caused people to start associating him and Bennett with each other.

"Emery," Bennett replies, smiling back.

Emery leans against Bennett's desk. "So, I was hoping I could ask you a few questions for an article I'm working on?"

"Go ahead."

"Great," Emery replies, and his smile makes Bennett think of a shark.

"What's great?" Haroldes says, hip-checking Emery as he pushes past him down the aisle. Bennett has to roll his lips in that he doesn't smile, before he can school his face completely.

Emery looks annoyed for a split second, and then Haroldes turns around to look at him, eyebrow cocked questioningly, and it switches back into a smile. "It's great that Bennett's willing to answer my questions for the school paper."

"Questions about what?" Haroldes asks.

"Just the spelling bee competition," Emery responds, smile still fixed.

"You realise it's just regionals, right?" Haroldes says, and hops up onto his desk, behind Bennett. He swings so that he's hanging over the side but angled towards where Emery is standing beside Bennett's desk.

Bennett can feel Haroldes' pressing his leg against his shoulder, but pretends he doesn't notice.

"Doesn't mean it's not still interesting," Emery says, voice cool.

"You must have absolutely no other shit to write about, huh?" Haroldes says. Bennett can feel his lips twitch as he holds back a reaction.

"I believe it's important to write about  _all_  events, not just football game outcomes and the like," Emery says, clearing his throat.

"You just hate sports," Bennett says, which earns him a glare.

"And so he settles for a Spelling Bee," Haroldes chips in, pumping his fist in the air.

Emery glares at them both. "If you don't want to answer any questions, you can just say so," he says tightly.

"I never said that, Emery," Bennett says, smiling sweetly. Haroldes turns his head to the side, away from Emery, and Bennett can see from the corner of his eye that he's trying to stifle a smile.

"Fine," Emery says, flipping viciously through his notebook. "So Bennett, so you've been in every Spelling Bee since you qualified for participation in them, correct?"

"Yes," Bennett says, somewhat cautiously. He can't quite figure out where Emery is going with this.

"And this is the first time you've gotten less than first in the first qualifying round, let alone just inside of your own age classification?"

Bennett's smile completely slips off, and he can see Haroldes go still in the corner of his eye.

There's a beat of silence, and then Emery looks up, expectant. Bennett can see the spark of mocking in his eyes, the want for Bennett to react.

"Yes," Bennett replies, and his voice comes out steady. Annoyance sparks across Emery's face for the split second before it disappears.

"So how do you think you're going to do in nationals, considering your performance in regionals was below par?"

"Par is the general average," Bennett says. "I'd say I was well above the general average."

The smile quirks back onto Haroldes' face.

"Well," Emery says, a little tersely. "Below  _your_  par."

"Everyone has to go below sometimes, just as they'll go above sometimes. That's what makes an average."

Bennett can imagine Emery grinding his teeth at this point. "But surely you must be disappointed."

"Of course, but part of success is being able to deal with failure and keep going." Bennett says smoothly. "Besides, I'd hardly say that getting second place and qualifying for nationals is a failure."

His throat feels thick after he says the words, and he realizes that he doesn't really believe them.

"Well, thank you for those answers," Emery says, and then turns to Haroldes, obviously annoyed but trying to hide it behind a veneer of professionalism and polite behaviour, "How do you feel about winning?"

"No comment," Haroldes says cheerfully.

Emery's mouth twists like he's tasted something sour. "Are you excited for future competitions?"

"No comment."

"Are you going to answer all my questions with no comment?"

"No comment."

Emery huffs and storms off, tucking his pen behind his ear with more force than necessary, sending the hair around it up into tufts sticking off the side of his head.

"Did you really answer those honestly?" Haroldes asks Bennett.

"No comment," Bennett says, and he knows without looking that Haroldes is smiling, wide and slightly proud.

* * *

 

When Bennett walks up to the locker bank during lunch, Haroldes hanging off of him, the group seems oddly subdued.

"Who died?" Haroldes says, bewildered. Bennett shrugs his arm off while he has the chance.

"No one, but Peter seems upset," Bridget says quietly.

"What for?"

Jasmine snorts. "Because he's a dick, that's why?"

"What do you mean?" Bennett cuts in, frowning. He feels like he's out of the loop somehow.

"He didn't want to eat with you; we told him he could fuck off," Jasmine says, and then closes her locker with a clang.

Bennett purses his lips, considering. He takes a step back, and everyone looks at him, curious.

"I'll be right back," he tells them.

"Ben, you don't have to go anywhere," Bridget says, panicked, going to grab at his sleeve, but he steps back further.

"I do." He gently catches her arms, pushing her back. Then he backs up again, a few more steps where he lets himself watch their faces, the concern he's fairly assured he doesn't deserve, and then he turns around and walks quickly away.

He has someone to find.

* * *

 

Bennett isn't really surprised to find Peter sitting on the bleachers, watching a couple of boys throw a football around. He climbs up the steps, and Peter doesn't look up until he's nearly in front of him. The look of surprise on his face shifts from surprise to annoyance when he recognizes Bennett.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, voice sharp.

Bennett shrugs. "Looking for you."

"Well you found me," Peter snipes, "so now you can leave."

"Not yet."

Peter pins him with an irritated look. Bennett sits next to him.

"Look, you can be as mad at me as you want," Bennett says, "but you don't have to drag everyone else into it. I apologized and they accepted, and I respect that you didn't, but you don't have to drag them into a war. Especially one that's mostly unfounded."

"Unfounded?"

"Yes. You're being a hypocrite. You say I have a stick up ass, and then try to get me to forgive you, but I snap once and suddenly that's unforgivable?"

Peter looks down, lips tight. He looks cowed, but Bennett knows him well enough to know he doesn't have the pride to apologize outright. He's seen it before, where Peter does something wrong, acts more gently, and then asks if things are fixed. It's a cycle that Bennett's used to.

Bennett gets up and dusts his pants off. "I don't to make our friends chose sides, so you can stop trying to pin them with guilt by association." He's out of that row of bleachers and going down the steps before he calls without looking back, "And let me know when you feel like being friends again."

Everyone's eyes are asking Bennett where he went when he comes back, but he doesn't say anything, just settles beside them with his lunch. Fifteen minutes later, Peter wanders up to them, awkward, and fits himself into the scattered circle that they all make up.

* * *

 

"What did you say to him?" Haroldes asks Bennett when he walks into math, dropping into the seat next to him instead of behind him. Bennett frowns at him, but when Kylie Rodgers, who usually sits next to him, comes in the door she just blinks and then moves to sit further down the aisle.

Bennett's scowl deepens.

"C'mon, tell me," Haroldes says, leaning across the space between them and bracing his arms on the side of Bennett's desk.

"I told him that just because he doesn't want to deal with me doesn't mean he should draw everyone else into it," Bennett replies cooly. "I was just logical."

Haroldes tilts his head, studying Bennett, and he has no idea what the look in his eyes means.

"What?" he says self-conciously.

Haroldes smiles, a small little quirk of his lips. "Nothing, Netter."

Bennett narrows his eyes at him, trying to figure out what Haroldes is thinking, which is pretty much impossible, considering the guy doesn't seem to follow any rules except the ones he sets himself.

"Come over," Austin says suddenly. Bennett blinks, because that's about the last thing he expected to come out of his mouth.

"Excuse me?" Bennett says, bewildered. He's not entirely sure he didn't just mishear him.

But Austin just repeats, "come over," a little more firmly, eyes intent. Bennett scrunches his face up, uncertain.

"Why?" he asks. He can't imagine Austin inviting him over for no reason, a sudden friendliness coming out of nowhere.

Austin shrugs. "Figured we could work on our debate. Easier in person."

Bennett stares at him incredulously. "You realise that the debate isn't for over a week, right? And that she assigned it to us only a few days ago?"

Austin mouth twitches. "Head start, then. Besides, we're both free now, and who knows what will be assigned later in the week."

He has a point.

"Fine," Bennett bites out.

Haroldes smiles, all teeth. "Perfect."

* * *

 

Five minutes after entering the Haroldes' home, Bennett is convinced that at least one of the parents is a demon.

Case in point: Haroldes' sister.

"Are you Asian or white?" Is the first thing she says when she sees him.

Haroldes gives her a reproachful look, " _Gem_."

"What?" She says.

Haroldes pinches the bridge of his nose. "This is my little sister Jennifer."

Bennett only raises his eyebrows at him.

"Who's this?" Jennifer asks.

"Bennett," Haroldes says. "And we're going to work on a project, so get out."

"Is he a booty call?"

" _Out_."

"He's totally a booty call."

"Should I tell Mom and Dad you know what that is?"

"Only if you want me to tell them about that horror movie you snuck in to see last year."

Haroldes narrows his eyes at her. "Gem."

Jennifer flutters her eyes back at him. "I was here first, Aussy."

Bennett gets startled into a laugh, and quickly turns it into a cough. Both of the siblings turn to look at him.

"Sorry," he says.

Jennifer tilts her head. "You're really pretty for a boy, you know."

Bennett looks at her with bewilderment.

"Wow, thanks Gem," Haroldes says sarcastically, pushing at her shoulder as he passes her.

"Does tactlessness run in the family?" Bennett asks him dryly.

Haroldes looks at him over his shoulder. "Do you want something to eat?" he asks.

Bennett doesn't miss that he completely dodged the question. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter probably comes across as pretty anti-climatic, especially the last scene, so I apologize for that. I promise that a lot of it is a product of having to set things up, which unfortunately isn't an excuse because as a writer I should be able to make it more interesting, but oh well. I may go back and edit it later, since this is more of a work-in-progress sort of thing. So, if you've enjoyed so far, I'll guess I'll see you next chapter! :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, you brought a friend home!" She says, striding over, and Bennett's preparing himself for a handshake when she pulls him straight into a hug, which is uncomfortable enough without factoring in that he's sitting on a barstool in their kitchen while she's standing. Bennett goes stiff, and she finally releases him. "What's your name, sweetie?"
> 
> Sweetie?

By the time the rest of the Haroldes family comes home, Bennett thinks that he's on the edge of pulling his hair out.

"We can't just talk about false accusations," Bennett snaps at Haroldes as they argue over the details of their debate points, the laptop sitting half forgotten on the counter between them. "We have to bring up some arguments about people that were guilty and still bring up something to oppose the death penalty, otherwise we'll sound too flat and roundabout."

"Right, so you support some raping murderer getting off?" Haroldes fires back.

Bennett throws his hands up. "What I think isn't the  _point_."

"So that  _is_  what you think."

"For God's sake."

"Are you in support of going against the death penalty because you believe in retribution after death? It's because you're religious?"

"Austin," Bennett says through his teeth, planting his hands on the counter, " _focus_."

"I'm focusing on the real issue here," Haroldes says.

Bennett narrows his eyes at Haroldes. Haroldes smiles sunnily back, and Bennett just feels hotter, aware that he's being mocked.

"Just do the research," Bennett hisses.

Haroldes' smile shifts, that same crooked smile that Bennett thinks is carved into the space of his mind where his own doubt lives, a reminder of everything he can't be summed up in one sharp curve.

Bennett hears a loud click then, from somewhere deeper in the house, and looks over his shoulder at the same time both of the siblings look towards the sound.

A couple wanders into the kitchen together, both blond and looking to be somewhere in their thirties, and it's easy to see the resemblance between them and their two children. The woman's eyes light up when they land on Bennett.

"Oh, you brought a friend home!" She says, striding over, and Bennett's preparing himself for a handshake when she pulls him straight into a hug, which is uncomfortable enough without factoring in that he's sitting on a barstool in their kitchen while she's standing. Bennett goes stiff, and she finally releases him. "What's your name, sweetie?"

_Sweetie?_

Bennett keeps a cool expression on his face. "Bennett Cole."

She beams. "It's good to meet you, Bennett. You can call me Katherine,or just Kathy, if you prefer," she says, and then moves over to kiss Austin on the cheek and Jennifer on the head despite that they both mumble and groan and attempt to squirm away.

The father laughs. "C'mon, you could at least pretend to like your mother's affection when there's a guest over."

Jennifer pulls a sour face. " _I_  didn't invite him."

"Jenny," Mrs. Haroldes admonishes, and then turns to Bennett. "Are you staying for dinner, dear?"

"Yes," Haroldes answers.

His mother frowns at him. "You can't answer for him, Austin. I have to make sure his parents know."

"It's alright," Bennett responds. "My mom doesn't come back until after dinner, so I usually cook for myself. I can stay."

The entire family looks at Bennett, and he has to resist the urge to shift on the stool.

"Does she work late?" the mother asks, and Bennett nods. "What about your father?"

"We don't live with him," Bennett says, and even after all these years, it comes out somewhat stiff. It's not the words he hates, but the fact that he knows the words that follow, the pitying looks.

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

Bennett presses his lips together, and doesn't let himself take the words too deep.

"Well, you'll have to let someone else cook for once," the father says, clapping Bennett on the shoulder. "My name's Bill."

Bennett nods at him, and then the mother smiles, moving behind the counter to start cooking.

"What are you two working on?" the father asks, sitting on the stool beside Bennett.

"A project that we don't particularly need your help on," Haroldes says.

Acting wounded, the father puts a hand onto his chest. Haroldes reaches around Bennett to swat at him, but he only leans out of range.

"Have fun, boys," he says, and gets up to kiss Haroldes on the cheek before he joins his daughter on the carpet in the middle of the living room. Bennett can see them clearly, most of the main floor has an open floor plan with the rooms mostly connected, and it makes Bennett feel oddly exposed.

Haroldes scowls after his father before he looks back at Bennett. "So where were we?"

Bennett raises his eyebrows. "Talking about how we need more arguments."

Haroldes nods his head concisely. "Ah yes. We were talking about how you're on the road to religious fanaticism."

Haroldes' mother shoots them both an alarmed look, and Bennett has to resist slamming his head into the table. Or maybe Haroldes' head, instead.

"Maybe you boys should go upstairs so that you don't bother Kathy while she's cooking," Haroldes' father says.

Haroldes shrugs and nudges Bennett out of his chair, and Bennett scowls at him but goes anyways, not wanting to make a bad impression. Haroldes scoops up the laptop and then walks a few short steps before loping up a staircase, as though Bennett's supposed to have any idea where he's going.

When Bennett gets to the top of the stairs, he just barely catches Haroldes disappearing through one of the doors. Feeling flushed with irritation, Bennett hurries in after him.

"What the hell is this?" he hisses, and Haroldes turns around to face Bennett with a raised eyebrow after he's placed the laptop on his desk.

"What do you mean?" He leans casually against the desk, hip cocked, and Bennett feels like all of his anger rushes into him again, thick and heady. He hates it. He hates that Haroldes proves that he's intelligent, and that he can work with Bennett if he wants to, and then just proves that he doesn't want to. He hates that he can't figure out why.

"Why would you invite me over? We're not working, all you're doing is antagonizing me." Bennett can feel the emotion building up inside him, and he tries to tamp it down, because that seems to be everything that Haroldes is aiming for. He wishes that he wasn't affected this way, that he didn't feel it at all, that he could be the stronger one. He wants to reclaim control instead of getting buffeted around.

Haroldes shrugs. "You're just easy to wind up."

Bennett grits his teeth. "Possibly, but that's not the point. You told me we'd be working on the debate, and we're not. You're supposed to be working with me, not against me."

Haroldes looks at Bennett, and it's not quite the crooked smile Bennett knows, but he can see the ghost of it on his face. "I'm just testing your ideas to make them stronger."

"Then maybe you should talk about my ideas instead of only criticizing  _me_ ," Bennett spits. "You're supposed to be my partner."

The words come out before Bennett's aware he's thinking of them, and it scares him, the lack of control he's riding right now, coasting on the edge with frayed strings holding him together. His voice comes out hoarse, and he hates this situation, he hates Haroldes, he hates himself.

Bennett takes a step back, breathing deep to steady himself, and he resists the urge to wrap his arms around himself, feeling the need to shield himself but knowing he's shown too much already. He feels ripped open, and he's unsure if he's spilled part of himself away, the pieces that make him up scattered on Haroldes' bedroom floor.

He lets himself try to analyze Haroldes then, but there's nothing there, he's scrutinizing Bennett but the only thing displayed on his face is careful consideration.

Bennett locks his jaw. He knows what's coming by now, but he'll take it head on.

"You know, the carefully composed thing? Doesn't really work for you," Haroldes says, tilting his head.

"Good to know," Bennett says, tired.

"You're trying too hard," Haroldes says, and Bennett doesn't know exactly what he means, if he's trying to hard to stay composed or to keep up or if he tries to hard at everything. Maybe he does, but what he hates is that it shows.

"If that makes to much of a personality conflict for you, I'd be happy to try to find a way for us to work around each other," Bennett replies.

That's when the crooked smile appears. "Oh c'mon, didn't we already establish that you give up too easily?"

Bennett can't keep his voice from ripping out of his throat like a snarl when he speaks, "that was a competition, that was an event I'd worked for and I didn't give up, even if I was upset. This? This is not the same. This is you mocking me and playing with me because apparently it's just so much fun for you to mess with someone over doing any work."

Haroldes shrugs. "The debate is easy." He looks at Bennett, eyes intent, and Bennett feels trapped where he's standing beneath it. "You? You're interesting. You're a  _challenge_."

"So you're such a genius that anything academic is too easy? You have to play with people?"

"Precisely," Haroldes says, and the easy way he's leaning against his desk, completely relaxed, like that's a normal reaction and not completely psychotic, is what makes Bennett's anger rise to the surface.

"You asshole," Bennett snaps, low. "I don't know what's going on your head, but that's completely messed up."

Haroldes leans forward, pitching his voice low, the match to Bennett's, water smooth glass surface compared to a roiling storm. His words hit Bennett in the stomach when he says, "but it's fun."

Bennett wants to react, but something else occurs to him suddenly, something that makes the anger in him turn to cold dread. "Are you playing with the others too? Everyone in the club?"

Haroldes tilts his head slightly, studying Bennett. "What do you think?"

Bennett's anger flares up, beyond his control, not quite rage but something bordering on it. Before he's aware of himself, his hand is swinging up to strike Haroldes across the face.

Haroldes catches it right before it hits him, and then he pulls Bennett's hand down, still in his grip, to examine it. "See?" he says. "Interesting."

"I'm not a fucking lab rat," Bennett spits.

"Oh no," Haroldes meets his eyes again as he speaks, "you're much more interesting."

Bennett growls, low in his throat, and the sound is entirely foreign to him but doesn't seem to surprise Haroldes.

"Let me go," Bennett tells him, and thankfully, Haroldes does.

They stand there for what could be minutes or over an hour, for all Bennett can tell, the air filled with tension. Bennett keeps weighing things to say, retorts and accusations, but he discards each one before he says them. He isn't sure if it's because he doesn't want to stoop to the same level or because he wants to hit Haroldes even harder than he's been hit, and it makes him ashamed.

"Boys!" Haroldes' mother calls, and neither of them startle, but the moment does break, both of their eyes going to the doorway instead of staring each other down. "Dinner's ready."

Without speaking, they both go to eat. The atmosphere between them is still tense, and Bennett knows the parents can tell, trying to ease it by pulling them both separately into conversation and attempting to manoeuvre it so they'll speak to each other. Bennett's more stubborn about it, still somewhere in the vicinity of feeling angry and sore, though which one is stronger he can't tell. Haroldes just seems amused, and that only makes everything Bennett's feeling magnified.

The mother asks Bennett if he'd like a ride home, and Bennett politely refuses. He doesn't want to take the offer, he can take care of himself, and if he never had to see a single member of this family again he'd be happy.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Bennett," she says, smiling softly at him, and the father puts an arm around her waist and smiles at Bennett along with her.

Bennett just nods and slips out the door, uncomfortable.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can do this, he knows he can, and it digs under his skin that this feels so close but he's not sure if it'll keep being just in front of him, out of reach. He doesn't want to drag himself after the goal of beating Haroldes, until the point that's he just stumbling along and following brokenly behind, but the thought of giving up yet when everything he's worked for seems to be slipping between his fingers into Haroldes' cupped hands makes him feel vaguely sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just in case any of you wanted to know, I do have a tumblr for this fic and the related verse over at the url starburst-sunbeam, which is the same as my author name here and on fictionpress. C: So if you have any character questions or want to know if there's a reason an update is taking a while, that would be the place. (If tumblr's not your thing, don't worry about it, regular updates will still be here. Or, well, I'm generally more consistent with fictionpress, but it should come up here as well.)

Bennett comes to school still simmering in a shallow layer of his emotions from yesterday, and he's tried to calm them, spent nearly all of his time alone at home trying to come down from them, but Haroldes seems to be something that sticks under his skin.

"Bennett?" Bridget says to him, hesitant, and Bennett figured she would notice.

"It's nothing," Bennett murmurs to her. He wishes that by saying the words he could make them true, make himself unaffected.

"Let me know if you need anything," Bridget responds, nearly impossible to fool with emotions, but always considerate enough to give people the time and space they need.

Bennett nods to her, the best he can do without feeling like he's voicing too much, and heads off to English.

* * *

 

Bennett does his best to tune out Haroldes through all of English, despite that he can hear him everytime he says anything, to the teacher or otherwise, the benefit of sitting directly in front of him.

Biology gives him some breathing room, time to try to work himself out of it, get his mind focused into working. He thinks it works, until he walks into Physics and can feel the mental work he'd done come crashing down around his ears.

Bennett sits himself into his seat, stiff.

"You okay, Netter?" Haroldes asks, and Bennett can hear him lean forward onto his desk, the fake sympathy in his voice easily evident.

Bennett turns around and throws him his best polite smile, all the way on full wattage. "Absolutely."

The bell rings before Haroldes can respond, which Bennett isn't sure if he prefers or not. Mr. Hubbell stands up, announcing that they're going to have a test in a couple days. A lot of kids groan, trying to get out of it by saying that need more notice, but Mr. Hubbell's never been the type to stand for that. He waits until it calms down before launching into his next lesson.

Bennett isn't upset. In fact, he feels somewhat exhilarated, a sort of humming restlessness coming over him, and he feels like he can't sit still, can barely pay attention.

He's just been given a chance to prove himself.

* * *

 

He studies as much as he can, as carefully as he can. Memorizes the things he's supposed to know, practices as many questions as he can, especially the tricky ones. He can do this, he knows he can, and it digs under his skin that this feels so close but he's not sure if it'll keep being just in front of him, out of reach. He doesn't want to drag himself after the goal of beating Haroldes, until the point that's he just stumbling along and following brokenly behind, but the thought of giving up yet when everything he's worked for seems to be slipping between his fingers into Haroldes' cupped hands makes him feel vaguely sick.

His mother comes across him on the Saturday, all of his books spread across the counter in a sort partly arranged and partly chaotic half circle.

"Studying?" she asks, heels clacking on the tile as she moves to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"Yes," Bennett replies. His head is still craned over his notes, but his eyes are up, tracking her path through the kitchen. "I thought you didn't have work today."

"The new shipment came in today. Marlo wants me to go take a look at it before we put it up for sale on Monday, and tomorrow I'm going to give a sales pitch for a partnership to that motor company in the highrise downtown," she answers, taking a sip of coffee. There's a print of her lipstick left on the rim when she pulls away. Marlo's name sounds slightly jarring in the mix up of all of that Japanese, but Bennett's used to it, his mother's business partner a regular part of conversation with her.

"Alright," Bennett says. "Tell me when you're on your way home."

"You'll probably have to make yourself dinner. You know how these things are," she says, and Bennett doesn't, isn't the trying to spearhead his own small company and has no idea what it's like. She comes over and kisses him on the cheek. "Work hard today," she tells him, English crisp over the words. Bennett knows the routine, that the language switch is basically his mother's version of a goodbye.

"Yes," Bennett says, in the same language. His mother sweeps out then, the door clicking behind her to leave Bennett in the silence of his own home, nothing but the ticking of the kitchen clock and humming of the electronics.

He tries to slip back into his work so that he doesn't know it, gets swept up by equations and the spinning of moons and planets, moved by forces not their own.

* * *

 

Bennett writes the test on the week after, and he tries to focus on his own paper as much as possible, but the entire time he feels hyper aware of the sound of Haroldes behind him, the scratch of his pencil and the rustle every time he turns a page.

Despite that, Bennett still feels fairly confident. He just hopes it's enough.

* * *

 

"How'd it go?" Alison asks when the two of them show up together for lunch from Physics the next day, tests in hand. Mr. Hubbell has a ritual of handing them back at the end of class so they're not distracted while he's teaching, and Bennett isn't sure if he agrees with yet, even a couple months in.

"Aced it," Haroldes says, and then slaps hands with Jasmine. "Can't stand up to me, Jazz."

Jasmine snorts. "Sure, you go on believing that."

"What about you, Ben?" Alison turns to him then, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Bennett's a little surprised by the question, at least from Alison, who he still thought was acting frosty towards him because of his loss of temper from before.

"Good, I think," he says, and goes to tuck his test into his locker.

"C'mon Netter, tell us how you did," Haroldes wheedles, crowding up behind Bennett, who has to resist the urge to scowl when he turns around.

"We both did well, and we both said so."

"Give me specifics," Haroldes says, making grabby hands.

Bennett frowns.

"Well, what's your mark?" Haroldes says, and then a wicked look crosses his face, something sparking into his eyes that makes Bennett want to back up despite that he'd just be backing into his locker. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Bennett blinks, registering that, and he hears Cooper start to laugh before he starts to choke it down. Bennett vaguely wonders in Luc elbowed him the stomach. It's not unlikely.

Bennett raises an eyebrow then, giving Haroldes his best look to ask whether he  _really_  just said that. Haroldes grins in response.

"It's courtesy to give your own before asking for the name of someone else." Bennett says, and Haroldes gives him a dry look. "I'm going to apply that to marks as well."

Haroldes rolls his eyes, but easily hands over his test.

Written in the top red corner in red ink is the number 95.

Bennett had gotten a 92.

His stomach drops, disappointed, and he tries to keep his face blank, handing Haroldes his test back and then fishing out his own to place in Haroldes hands.

Haroldes lets out a low whistle. "Low nineties, hey? Impressive."

Bennett presses his lips together. Right,  _low_  nineties, because he's got the lower number, he's the lower one, the one that's not quite up to Haroldes level.

Haroldes hands Bennett his test back, and he takes it, teeth gritted but trying not to show it in his expression, spins around and carefully puts his test into the pocket of his binder he keeps all of his tests in. His face feels composed, but he can feel the tic at the side of his jaw where he has it locked, hopes it isn't noticeable the way his self-consciousness is making him think it is.

"Wow, Bennett the genius, as always," Cooper says. "What did you get then, Austin?"

"Ninety-five," he responds, and Bennett doesn't know what expression he has because his back is still turned, but he bets it's something cocky, befitting of that he beat Bennett while barely trying.

There's a beat of silence, before Cooper says, low, "damn."

Haroldes laughs, the sound coming easy as always. It isn't mocking, it's not aggravating, there's nothing in it that says he's making fun of or looking down on Cooper.

Bennett pulls his lunch out of his locker, trying to school the jump in his clenched jaw.

* * *

 

"You really don't like him, do you?" Bennett hears from behind him as he's walking alone to the stop he needs to catch his bus home. He's vaguely startled, until he turns around and spots Peter just behind him, jogging to come up beside him.

"Who?" Bennett asks, cautious, even though he thinks he already knows the answer.

Peter snorts, flipping his dirty blond hair out of his eyes. "The goddamned President. I meant Austin, you idiot. It's pretty obvious."

Bennett looks away, mouth tight. He's aware it wasn't a secret, not anything he'd been trying to keep to himself in any capacity, but he wonders if everyone's been laughing behind his back at how easily he reacts to Haroldes all the time. "What about him?"

"You hate him," Peter responds.

Bennett stares at him for a moment, unsure of what he's supposed to say to that. "Yes," he says eventually, even if it wasn't a question.

Peter huffs a little bit, and then stretches his arms up, crossing them behind his head. "We were all surprised at first. After his little words with the test though, I think I get it though."

"Hmmm," Bennett says. "Do you?"

"Sure," Peter says, looking over to Bennett then. "He's smarter than you, it drives you insane, and instead of leaving it alone he's poking the bear with a stick."

Bennett frowns. "Was there a point to this conversation?"

Peter stops walking suddenly, and Bennett trails a few more steps before he stops and turns around, looking at him. Peter drops his arms, and seems to wilt with the action, his bravado and faked confidence falling away.

"I'm sorry," he says.

Bennett raises an eyebrow.

"Don't give me that look," Peter says, slightly grumpy. He sighs, and looks up towards the sky. "I'm sorry. I'm a shitty friend who should have known something was up when you got angry, should have known it wasn't like you and that it was probably just frustration or something else coming to the surface that I hadn't been able to see before, and I blamed you for it instead of trying to help. I'm sorry."

Bennett's quiet, and his response takes long enough that Peter drops his head back down, looking at Bennett.

"Why, then?" he asks, quiet.

Peter takes a moment to answer. "Because you're perfect," he says, and Bennett almost jumps at the unexpectedness of the words, staring at Peter with incredulity. "No, listen a second. I know you're not, I know you're a person with problems like the rest of us, but the thing is that none of ever shows up on the surface to the point that it seems like you don't have anything problematic to think of, ever. No difficulties, not for the club president, not for the student council member, not for the guy that's smarter than all of us but quiet about it, too  _good_  to lord it over our heads. It drove me insane, and I think... I think I lost sight of you for a while. I think I forgot about my friend Ben."

Peter's mouth is twisted, and Bennett knows he hates having to say the words, but feels like he has to for whatever reason. Bennett's not going to make a big deal out of it, he's thankful for what Peter's said more than he knows how to compose into a response, and he knows the response Peter would appreciate the most is not to really make anything of his display at all.

"Well, thank you for that near monologue, Peter." Bennett says, and then hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "Can I go catch my bus now?"

Peter smiles, broad. "Sure."

Bennett turns, walking off again. Alone again, he can't help but reflect, and he knows that one admission, one exchange, doesn't change everything, but he can't tamp down the hope that he has his friend back.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luc snorts. "You're too serious."
> 
> Bennett just hums again. Maybe he is, but Haroldes still lazes about and blows passed him, barely any effort as far as Bennett can tell. Every time Haroldes pulls farther ahead, Bennett feels strung tighter, too small for his skin, like he's attached in some way and he needs to catch up before he gets pulled apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I've got a couple scenes written further down the timeline, but they're all pretty scattered, so while that should help a little, by how much is anyone's guess. I think I've got a little more rambling in Bennett's voice that pulls me off track a little, but otherwise I think things are so far so good. Again, if you have any questions about this chapter, the story in general or the characters, you can always head to my tumblr under the same url as my pen name here (starburst-sunbeam). And without further delay, enjoy the chapter!

It's a few short days later when the first debate of debate team starts up, and Bennett's feeling so on edge he thinks he might be grinding his teeth into dust. It would certainly explain why his mouth feels so dry when Mrs. Pursbury pulls which debate will be going first out of the infamous bowler hat.

It's about the oil drills in the ocean. Bennett isn't sure if he feels relieved or just more wound up. Austin shrugs, unconcerned, and goes to stand on the other side of the room as the students pull out the two tables set at the sides of the room for their debates, moving the desks until they have space. Bennett does feel vaguely better, being physically given the chance to breathe.

Bennett watches René, Luc and Cooper begin their debate, easily being able to tell that there's an underlying tension likely to explode. He feels bad for Cameron, René's unknowing partner. At least Cameron's been with the team long enough that she's unlikely to quit now, even after working with René. It helps that it's pretty much guaranteed that René will go back to her regular partner after this.

Bennett's leaning on the wall next to Giles, who's barely blinking at the way René's just called Cooper an eco-head with no mind for the development of society. He's more than used to her by now, always seems to have a calm face. Bennett remembers when he moved here, in the years between Luc and René. He's their other partner on the foreign language debate team, but he speaks both French and Spanish, from one of those countries with a history of both so intertwined that you couldn't possibly take one language away and leave the other. Sometimes he'll switch without being aware of it, leaving Luc blinking at the segue and René glaring at him like he just cussed her out. He takes either the French or Spanish team during the foreign debates, depending on where he's needed.

"Think she'll eat them alive?" Bennett asks him.

Giles shrugs. "I doubt it. Luc may like to keep the peace, but he wouldn't appreciate René actively trying to take down his best friend. He'd intervene before then. I don't know if he can actually manage her or if she just likes him enough to listen."

Bennett should probably mention that Giles is also René's off-again-on-again boyfriend. They've always seemed pretty relaxed about the whole thing, more just slipping out of their relationship to try other things before falling back together out of what almost seems to be habit. Bennett has no idea how they manage it, but their relationship status has never had any effect on their debate teamwork, so he's never said anything. He thinks they're off right now, but isn't really sure, and doesn't really care. Luc would know, probably.

The debate's heating up, René and Cooper snapping at each other, leaning towards each other across their opposite tables. Cameron's switching between looking at them, seeming like she's unsure whether or not she should restrain René before the two leap across the tables at each other. Luc looks like he's just trying to keep the debate going without inciting a small scale version of World War Three.

Ms. Pursbury looks delighted at the energy in the room.

The debate comes to a close, Cooper looking angry and René looking satisfied, despite that Cooper and Luc had won the negative side against drilling. Cameron looks vaguely concerned, and Luc seems to just be tired.

René comes up to him and Giles, greeting him before pulling Giles away, chattering French into his ear as they walk away. Cooper's throwing things into his bag, shoulders tense and angry.

Luc wanders over to Bennett, his backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes drooping.

"How was it?" Bennett questions him, a little wry. He can't help it.

Luc shakes his head. "Let's just say I'm glad they have no plans to work with the UN anytime soon."

* * *

 

Bennett's sitting at home that night, going over his notes for their debates just in case their subject is the one that gets called up next, when his phone rings. He's got half a mind to ignore it, believing in the likelihood that it's Haroldes, because he seems to have a talent for finding excuses to get Bennett's attention at inopportune moments. He gets up anyways, takes the cordless from its cradle on the counter to at least check the caller ID.

He figured that even if it wasn't Haroldes, it would be a number or ID he didn't recognize, one of his mother's clients or partners. It's not.

"Luc?" He asks, as soon as he picks up.

"Hello to you too," Luc replies, dry.

"What is it?" Bennett asks, cutting to the chase. All of his friends know his aversion to phone conversation, though not the reason for it, the way he has to get stuck coming up with quick responses the way you would face to face without the advantage of body language and expressions to fall back on. He's never told them, the reasoning feels too much like a weak spot.

Luc takes a deep breath, the sound snaking down the line. "I'm pretty sure both Cooper and René are mad at me."

"Pretty sure?"

"René disappeared with Giles immediately after. Either they're making out or she's spending time with him and purposely using it as an excuse to ignore me."

Bennett supposes that answers the question on where the two were currently sitting at in the on-again-off-again status. "And Cooper?"

"He's acting icy. He says he's not mad, but he's never been especially good at hiding things. Though he could just be playing passive-aggressive. I've tried calling his house, at least after he hadn't picked up his cell to maybe talk to his sister, but I think he's screening me."

Bennett's not sure if Cooper's bad at hiding things or if Luc's just good at reading him, though he supposes it doesn't matter either way. The whole thing sort of gives him a headache, and he sighs, like letting the air out will ease the pressure on his skull. "They're immature, Luc. They'll get over it. Chances are they're just a little more peeved with each other than they are on a regular basis and you got caught in the middle."

Luc makes a frustrated noise. "I don't understand why they hate each other so much."

Bennett doesn't know how to explain to him that they both get pissy over having to share him. Figures it isn't his place to be the one to tell Luc that anyways. "Talk to them."

"I've been trying! They're ignoring my calls, or did you not catch that part?"

"At  _school_." Bennett elaborates. "You share classes with them both, don't you?"

"Yeah," Luc confirms, defeated. "Sorry about that random venting, I guess. You were the only one I could think to call."

Bennett hums, not sure what to say to that. He's not exactly good with relationship advice, no matter the form the relationship is in. Bridget's the soft touch, and would probably be the best backup when the best friends are beyond reach.

"What were you up to before I called?" Luc continues.

"Brushing up on my debate."

"Seriously? Do you  _sleep?_  Or are you just a robot programmed to work eternally."

Bennett rolls his eyes, even though he knows Luc can't see it. "I'm just going over the notes. I'm not looking up anything else. I got the details hammered out a long time ago."

"Well duh. I think you're the only one I've ever met who's never procrastinated in his life. But still, you know this isn't for marks, right?"

Bennett knows, but it still feels important somehow. Usually he doesn't mind debate club, even likes it on occasion despite the quirky faculty member heading them, unlike the way Honour Society meetings make him feel stiff and Student Council makes him feel fake. There's something different about this match though, and he knows he's not facing Haroldes, but he feels like he has to prove himself none the less, prove he can keep pace, and it's creating an itch under his skin that's kept him twitching towards his notes every time he takes a break.

"I know." Bennett says.

Luc snorts. "You're too serious."

Bennett just hums again. Maybe he is, but Haroldes still lazes about and blows passed him, barely any effort as far as Bennett can tell. Every time Haroldes pulls farther ahead, Bennett feels strung tighter, too small for his skin, like he's attached in some way and he needs to catch up before he gets pulled apart.

"Get some sleep, will you?" Luc tells him.

"Sure," Bennett replies, raking another hand through his hair as he glances over his notes about the inaccuracy of picking out perpetrators from a line up.

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Ben."

Bennett can feel the corner of his mouth tick down for a second, but he doesn't say anything about the nickname. "Goodbye, Luc."

He waits until the line clicks off, and then places the phone beside himself on the counter, pouring over his notes.

* * *

 

Luc looks nervous when Bennett walks up to their lockers that morning.

"Cooper and René aren't here," he says, eyes wide and vulnerable.

Jasmine snorts from where she's standing behind Luc, not even deigning to look up from where she's digging through it. "You have separation issues. Best friend doesn't mean you can't go without each other."

"I think they're having a lover's spat." Alison chips in, leaning by her shoulder into her own locker.

"Shut up, don't pretend you haven't been sulking because your girlfriend's AWOL."

Alison gives her a scathing look. "She just hasn't  _shown up yet_."

Jasmine waves a dismissive hand. "Whatever."

Alison looks put off, and Bennett cuts them off before things can devolve. Sometimes he feels more like an elementary teacher than a high school student. Only with more sexual and romantic drama thrown in.

"René might skip, but I doubt it's personal. Cooper doesn't skip, and he seemed fine yesterday. Would his parents let him play sick?" Bennett asks, trying to talk Luc through a logical thought process.

Luc shakes his head. "His mom would never buy it, or let him stay home even if she knew."

"Then he'll be here." Bennett claps him on the shoulder before opening his own locker.

"Besides," he hears Jasmine saying, "I know the two of them were looking forward to seeing you try to work with Austin. Either it's going to brilliant, or everything will turn out a complete disaster as neither of you knows how to work with someone that might actually be at your level instead of always being the smartest one in a team."

Bennett grimaces. He's been thinking the same thing.

* * *

 

In between second and third period, Luc and Cooper come trailing in together from one of their mutual classes, Luc grinning brightly. Whatever mood Cooper had been in the day before seems to mostly have retreated, but Bennett can still see it lingering a little, his smiles a little strained and the banter between him and Luc not as present as before. He can tell Luc notices it too, but he's not calling Cooper out on it. Bennett wonders if he'd even be able to tell if he hadn't known of the strain between them the day before leading into their attitudes today.

After an irritating third period where Bennett was checking his debate notes after he'd finished the practice questions in Physics and Haroldes had his legs kicked up on either side of his desk while he scrolled through his phone, Luc and Cooper catch him at the lockers during lunch.

"Ready for the next debate?" Cooper asks him, arms folded. He looks entirely too pleased with the idea of watching Bennett either gear himself towards insanity during his argument or losing all his nerves as he's forced to wait another day.

"Of course," Bennett replies, his voice calm and steady as ever. Cooper seems disappointed that he's not a wreck, but neither seems to notice his underlying anxiety.

They lead the way to the debate classroom, chattering together as Bennett trails behind.

Haroldes is already there when they pile in, and he comes over, slinging an arm around Bennett's shoulders. "Ready to potentially roll, partner?"

Bennett pins him with a look, silently giving him the third degree for the casual physical contact, but Haroldes just grins.

Mrs. Pursbury sweeps in then, before Bennett can start to verbalize what he's thinking. He bets he'd only be playing right into Haroldes' hands.

"Alright, darlings!" She trills, and then pulls out a slip so quickly it almost feels anti-climatic. "Next up is the debate on the death penalty!" She sounds characteristically cheery, even taking the subject into account.

Bennett shrugs Haroldes' arm off of his shoulders, helps set the tables up again like the day before, and settles him next to Haroldes, Giles and and a pretty, Hispanic girl named Lucina matched against them.

"Alright, affirmative side gives their statements, then negative side, and we're off."

All four of them give good starting points, each side having obviously coordinated with their partner not to be too similar but still bolster their own point. Before Bennett's truly registered that they've all spoken, the debate's taking off, Haroldes starting with a point so clean cut that Bennett feels a small swell of something like possessiveness, like his getting a partner so capable was anything besides pure luck.

But he's not going to get drowned out. Bennett's just as ready for this as he is.

Giles isn't phased, as calm under pressure as he always is, gives a rebuttal at just the same level as Haroldes, and Bennett slips in then, has a point that slips in so nicely in reply it almost feels choreographed. Lucina jumps in, voice sharp, and if Bennett didn't know how she always was when arguing he would think she was losing her head. Instead he just knows she always talks that way, like she'd rather be ripping someone apart with her nails than her voice.

Lucina and Giles certainly aren't weak opponents in any respect, but Bennett can confidently say that together he and Haroldes absolutely  _slam_  them. Their arguments are more concise, their research deeper. Put that together with the fact that not only do they have more points, but all of them seem to fit together well enough that Bennett can visualize it like the arrowhead formation of fighter jets.

He hasn't ridden this kind of high off competition since elementary. He'd forgotten what it felt like.

Mrs. Pursbury calls time on their debate, calling Haroldes' and Bennett's negative side the winner. Giles and Lucina both shake their hands in a friendly close. They each get to Haroldes first, then Bennett, and after Lucina's moved on, Giles catches him and holds on for a second.

"Nicely done," he says, voice low, and there's some sort of inflection there Bennett can't quite decipher, like he's sharing a secret with him. Then he's letting go, moving away to the other side of the room where René's leaning against the wall. Bennett blinks at the two of them; he hadn't even noticed her come in.

"Come on," Haroldes says, trapping Bennett by that same arm wound around his shoulders. "Let's get some lunch to celebrate."

Bennett spears him with his eyes. "It would have been the same lunch if we'd lost."

"Yes, but now I'm buying us both snacks from the vending machine."

Bennett rolls his eyes, but relents to the attention. He likes the chocolate covered raisins and rarely gets a chance to have any.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wonders that if they were puzzle pieces, if they'd be the kind that didn't quite match up, but that a child had determinedly locked together anyways, the pieces scraping off each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello! After a little bit of mild panic and frustration from working myself into a space between plots points (any sort of story creator will understand what I mean by this) I managed to get around and find a way for at least this chapter to go smoothly. I do have a plan. It's just mildy disjointed. We'll get there. Anyways, while my chapters aren't particularly that long, this one is the longest one yet, even if this one still probably isn't noticeably longer. I wondered about a better way to break it up, but I feel like the last two scenes go together pretty well and the first one's too short to put on its own. Also, I think I may have a problem with over-describing things. Oh well. Either way, here's the chapter!

Leiah Wilcox, probably the only person in the entire junior grade that had given Bennett a run for his money on the student council position for their year, stalks up to him only a day after his debate. This is important information mostly because debate team falls on Wednesday, where Scholastic Club meets on Thursdays, and the occasional Tuesday if they need to re-schedule or want more practice before a big event.

This is important, because Leiah Wilcox, like Bennett's mirror, has always been their grade's representative on the various dance committees, the way he is year round on student council. She does Homecoming, Winter Formal, Prom and even does minimal work on the Grad dance, though he mostly suspects that she doesn't want to push her boundaries as an underclassmen before she's in charge.

Bennett has wondered for a while now if she's planning on running for student council next year, like she always does. If she does, one of them is going to end up as President with the other as the Vice. He goes back and forth between thinking that they would be an incredible team and that the whole thing would end in murder.

He's usually leaning towards the latter.

"Benny," is the first thing she says to him, grinning in a way feels more like a predator bearing it's teeth than a girl who got voted most charismatic through all of high school so far.

"Leiah," he says, smiling back, all feigned politeness to the point that he feels like a politician.

She clears her throat, shuffling the papers in her arms. "I have some propositions for ways to edit the Winter Formal Committee's budget, and I thought I could talk about it so we're mostly clear? Preferably sometime after school? I'm sure you're free."

Leiah knows all about Bennett's heavy involvement in Scholastic Club. And she's just throwing the time suggestion into that mix-up to set Bennett's teeth more firmly on edge. He's not sure if she likes winding him up or if she keeps hoping he'll lose his head enough to give her a leg up.

"I think that's something you should position the entire Student Council on," Bennett replies, smile still firmly fixed.

Leiah tilts her head to the side, the half-up state of her blond hair causing pieces of it to slip over her shoulder. "Oh come on, Benny, we're friends. You don't have to be so formal with me. I just thought talking to you would save me having to meet with the council over and over before it gets hammered out, you know?"

"Your budget was already discussed months ago. I don't see why you couldn't have approached this earlier."

A spark of annoyance flashes across Leiah's eyes. "Well, the details weren't all out then. Now that we're starting to order everything and are trying to book venue and entertainment, the numbers are adding up differently than we initially predicted."

Bennnett keeps his expression still, the slight smile cool. "Well, when you have the numbers add up differently, do you think you could get them to add up to less than what you've been budgeted?"

"Benny, don't you want everyone to have a fun Winter Formal?"

"Of course," he answers without missing a beat.

"Then you should give us more leeway on budget. It would broaden our options. Winter Formal could be spectacular." She leans forward, as though pretending to be conspiratorial. Bennett nearly laughs.

He leans in too, pitching his voice lower to fit the ruse she's trying to set. "Then do a fundraiser. I hear car washing can actually earn money."

Bennett swears he actually sees her eyes flash. Then she manages to get the smile back in place, though it's more mean than anything. "I'll keep that in mind," she says, somewhere between a growl and snap, before she turns on her heel and stalks away, heels clacking.

"You know, there are days when I'm surprised that those encounters don't end in spontaneous fires starting," Cooper muses, watching Leiah leave. Bennett rolls his eyes; he hadn't noticed his friends come up behind him during the conversation but he doubts they heard anything new.

"A Song of Ice and Fire," Luc adds, mock grave.

"Does that make Bennett an Ice Zombie? I like it," Alison contributes.

"I don't know," Austin says, and the dry amusement in his voice makes Bennett turn to him warily before he's even gone on, "he kind of reminds me of that third deer brother. You know? Nearly the natural leader type."

Bennett narrows his eyes, hostile. Austin's mouth spreads into a grin, teeth a white wash beneath slightly chapped pink lips.

"Isn't he the one that screws the flower guy?" Peter asks.

"Yes, yes he is." Luc confirms, smug.

Bennett tries to spear them both with his eyes.

"Nerds," Cooper mutters, and Bridget, the only other one out of the loop, pats him on the arm.

Alison shrugs. "I just watched the show."

Luc gasps like he's been wounded.

"No," Cooper says immediately, pointing a finger at Luc's face. "We are not doing this again. Repeat after me:  _Movie and TV adaptations are perfectly good types of media._ "

Luc still looks mildly like Alison's words are a personal transgression. "I know. Les Mis kicked ass. Game of Thrones is an amazing show. But the  _canon they changed_."

Cooper rolls his eyes. "Please stop with Les Mis.  _Please._ "

Luc, expression dead serious, looks Cooper dead in the eye and whispers, " _Viva La France._ "

Cooper throws his arms up and walks away.

Quietly, just so Bennett can hear, Austin sings, " _Depending on the time of day, the French go either way._ "

Bennett, drinking from a water bottle he keeps in his locker, nearly chokes.

* * *

 

The day's mostly uneventful (not counting Haroldes showing off that fact that despite the human brain not being geared towards naturally understanding probability, he does.) and so Bennett heads for Scholastic Club, a little more high-spirited about it that usual because of Leiah not actually managing to keep it from him.

Before he gets there, one of the earlier ones for once, he hears voices filtering towards him. He doesn't think anything of it until he clearly hears Jasmine say, "Yeah right. The two of can't be in a room together without making Bennett's face get so stony I have to check the instinct to look over my shoulder for Medusa."

Bennett freezes.

He doesn't like eavesdropping, has always hated people who do it and dreads the idea of someone else listening in on a private conversation, but he stops and listens anyways. He tells himself that it's so he doesn't walk in at an inopportune moment, but he knows it's a lie.

"Well then, shouldn't you be talking to him?" Haroldes replies.

"I would," Jasmine responds, "If I thought he was the main problem here."

"I'm not doing anything -"

"Bullshit."

Haroldes is quiet for a moment, and then he says, "I'll admit that I've maybe been aggravating him. It's just teasing though."

"Yeah, something in me doesn't entire believe that."

"Jazz -"

"People aren't  _toys_ , Austin." Jasmine's voice is as sharp as a knife, and Bennett's caught between wishing he could see her face and being grateful that he can't. "Bennett's our friend and he - he takes things harder than it might seem on the surface. He's serious as fuck, to the point that sometimes I want to steal into his house into the middle of the night and start an impromptu drinking game, but I also known that he'd drop everything that mattered to him in a second in order to help anyone on this team."

Again, there's a beat of silence, before Haroldes responds, almost too quiet for Bennett to catch it from where he's stalled outside the clubroom door, "I know that. I know that's he loyal. I respect that."

"Hmmm," Jasmine hums, and Bennett can imagine her tapping her foot, staring Haroldes down.

"I'm not going to hurt him," Haroldes says.

Bennett expects Jasmine to say something typical of her, like "You'd better not," or "For your sake, let's hope so," but what she says instead is "Something tells me you already have."

* * *

 

After hearing that, Bennett knew he couldn't walk immediately back into the room, if not because they might realize he'd heard their conversation by his timing but because he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep control over the expressions his face was giving up.

He passes the room, winds down a few hallways and stops to drink at a water fountain and splash some of the stream onto his face in an attempt to jolt back into himself a little, and then loops back and comes into the club room. Thankfully, it's less empty than before, Luc and Cooper having come in and set themselves up so that Cooper's sitting on one of the tables and Luc's in one of the chairs a few down from him, chatting idly. Jasmine and Austin aren't next to each other, but there isn't a noticeably bigger distance between them than usual. If he hadn't overheard them, he wouldn't guess anything had happened at all.

Jasmine looks up then. "Hey Ben, I've got to answer some questions from the Scarlet Letter. You read that last year, right? Help a girl out?"

Bennett rolls his eyes. Jasmine is a notorious math and physics bulldozer, but English most definitely doesn't lie within her skill set. "Sure."

He works with her for the ten or so minutes more it takes for Bridget and Alison, Mr. Oaken and Peter to filter in, respectively, and then they all start up.

Bennett's a little quieter than usual, but if anyone notices, they don't say anything.

* * *

 

He hangs around a little after the club meeting's done, repacking his bag slowly as he thinks over the conversation between Jasmine and Haroldes that he hadn't given himself space to think of when he was trying to focus on dates and grammar and equations.

He hates to admit it, feels blind and self-involved thinking so, but of the people among his friends to ream out Haroldes, he hadn't expected it to be Jasmine. Then again, her will to jump teeth first into any fight should just as easily apply to defence of her friends, when he thinks about it.

"Hey Netter," he hears, and stiffens, before slowly turning around to face Haroldes.

"Austin," he greets as pleasantly as he can, "did you want something?"

Haroldes smiles, crooked and wicked. "Do I need a reason to want to talk to you?"

Bennett narrows his eyes.

"Yeesh, sorry, didn't know you hated socialization so much."

This time, he rolls his eyes. "What do you want, Austin?"

"Just give me a second to talk to you," he says.

Bennett crosses his arms. "I'm still standing here, aren't I?"

Haroldes cocks his head. "Snappish, aren't you?"

"Yeah, well, you already told me I have a stick up my ass," Bennett replies, icy.

Haroldes  _grins_  then, a full spread of teeth, and it lets Bennett know that whatever comes next isn't something he'll like. "I did. And then you kissed me."

Bennett locks his jaw, feels the muscles in it jump before he says, "I'm assuming that's not what you wanted to have a conversation about."

Haroldes sighs, and then runs a hand through his hair, unintentionally ruffling it so it sticks out, messy in a all directions. He looks at Bennett, or that's the only way Bennett can think to describe it, because they'd had their eyes on each other before that, but now Haroldes really  _looks_  at him. He doesn't look cocky, or like he's about to make fun of Bennett, he just looks like... a teenage boy.

Bennett feels some sort of pang go through him, some sort of yearning open up yawning into his chest, something he can't quite grasp. He thinks that maybe if this was the Haroldes he knew, that he might like him.

But he isn't. And Bennett doubts this will last long.

"Bennett -" Haroldes starts, and then there's the sound of the doorknob turning, the latch clicking as it slides over the frame. They both look towards it, hesitating, wound up in anticipation.

"All the kids are usually gone by now -" They hear a familiar voice saying.

They both glance at each other in shock and a little bit of panic, and suddenly Haroldes is dragging Bennett out of the aisle and ushering him towards the back of the classroom.

"What are you -" he hisses, right before he gets unceremoniously pushed into the book closet tucked in the corner.

Haroldes follows right after, closing the door behind him. Bennett hears the main door to the classroom creak open now, followed by footsteps and muffled voice.

Then Bennett hears a deep laugh he recognizes. He has to slap a hand over his own mouth to keep from gasping. In the slices of light coming around the cabinet's edges, Bennett can see Haroldes shoot him an incredulous.

Bennett carefully peels his hand off of his mouth. "That's Mr. Kyburn," he whispers, and Haroldes' eyes widen.

Then they both hear a giggling laugh that is most definitely  _not_  their English teacher. Haroldes flickers a sideways look towards Bennett. "Is that...?"

Bennett nods. "A woman yeah. I'm... I think it's one of the secretaries in the front office he says."

Haroldes raises his eyebrows, but doesn't say anything.

For a moment Bennett wonders why they had to come here instead of to Mr. Kyburn's classroom, until, with dawning horror, he realizes that this is one of the few classrooms that has long, flat tables instead of scattered desks.

With that epiphany, what also comes to the forefront of his mind is that he and Haroldes and now pressed together and standing very, very close to each other. Because his brain has fucking wonderful timing.

"Was it really necessary to hide in the book closet?" He hisses, instead of letting his mind go further in that direction.

Haroldes, who had been trying to peer through the sliver where the doors meet, looks back at him then. "You really want to be out there for that? You wanted to have  _that_  awkward conversation?"

"I don't know, might be preferable to being trapped in here indefinitely," Bennett snaps back.

As if cued, wet suctioning sounds start up. The two boys are already looking at each other, so Bennett can see and feel them grimace in unison.

"Yeah, I'll actually concede that one." Haroldes says, flickering a glance to the crack in the doorways before he looks back at Bennett, like he's decided that this isn't something he wants to try to see.

"Great, so we're stuck with nothing to do but listen," Bennett lightly kicks Haroldes in the shin, because this is  _his fucking fault_.

Haroldes ignores the kick, tilting his head. "Maybe not," he says, and before Bennett can ask him what he means, he advances closer in, the two of them now firmly forced together, lowering his head to press their lips together.

Without even thinking, Bennett shudders out a breath, parting his lips to let Austin slip his bottom lip there, the two of them slotted together. Bennett's heard the metaphor of puzzle pieces before, but this doesn't feel like interlocking, no pieces of fate falling into place, it just feels warm and slick. He wonders that if they were puzzle pieces, if they'd be the kind that didn't quite match up, but that a child had determinedly locked together anyways, the pieces scraping off each other.

The same kind of heat and urgency that fuels all the kisses before this one starts to come into play, slight bites at each other as they pull back to breathe or shift angles, hands pushing at each other on their sides and backs and chest, pulling and pushing like a tug of war. If he weren't pushed up against a stack of books, thick enough to muffle sound, Bennett might be slightly more worried.

Then, before he knows it, the pull of their lips at each other, sliding with rhythm back and forth, changes. Haroldes tilts his head furthering, mouth widening further and quietly urging Bennett to do the same, and when he does just a little suddenly there's a tongue slipping into his mouth. Which is. New.

It's the first time they've kissed with tongue, and while it's not like before was exactly innocent, all open mouths and movement and pulling and suction, this is completely different.

Bennett's never experienced what a tongue feels like, his own can't be accurate even if he touches it with his fingertips, because he can still feel that with his tongue. He's never roughhoused with someone and had them push it onto his face or in his ear, doesn't have any siblings or cousins or family friends. So kissing Haroldes is the first time he's felt what a tongue is like, and it's wet with a weird texture, and he can feel it with own his tongue, and altogether he's not really sure how he feels about it yet. It's sort of gross, but he also likes it. Another layer added to his confliction with Haroldes.

Also he's pretty sure there's some saliva slipping out their mouths, he can feel a string of it connecting them when they pull away to change angles for a moment before it breaks and goes down his chin, and it's a horrible feeling but he barely even cares. French kissing had always seemed gross and messy and pointless to him, and here he is. Here he is, French kissing Haroldes of all people, and he doesn't care.

Bennett gasps into Haroldes' mouth, gripping at his shirt, unsure of what he's supposed to be thinking. Carefully, he untangles the muscles pushing into each other mouth's and pulls back.

Both of them are panting, harsh breaths spilling in the space between them that are too heavy for them to mask even if they wanted to. Haroldes shifts slightly, the slice of light into the closet cutting onto his face, showing Bennett a sharp burst of his blown pupils and slick, reddened mouth before his weight moves back and put back into relative darkness, grey gradients.

Haroldes dives back in, mouth pulls at Bennett's softly in a series of soft kisses before he lingers, pressure becoming firmer. Bennett's eyes flutter closed, moving back to the open-mouthed kisses between pecks and frenching, and he leans onto the books, head tilted back as Haroldes presses in.

Haroldes shifts slightly, moving his body like he can't figure out exactly how he wants them lined up, and Bennett follows, shifting around more out of reaction than anything.

Like he needs to be closer, Haroldes nudges Bennett's knee until he kicks his legs apart a little, and then Haroldes has own in between them, Bennett's knees bracketing one of his own and Haroldes knees bracketing one of his. It feels like some off-centre, bizarre sort of variation of a jigsaw puzzle.

When Haroldes mouth drags off his own, trailing over his jaw and lingering with a soft bite to the space below his ear before dropping down further, moving down his neck, that's when Bennett notices. He realizes that something stiff is pressing against the thigh caught between Haroldes' legs, and then, with an embarrassment and dash of humiliation that makes his face burn, that he's in a similar position. Seriously, you'd think he would have been aware of that. His life is surreal.

"Austin," he says, meaning it to try to grab Haroldes' attention, but it comes out breathless and somewhat wrecked. Haroldes huffs out a breath where he's working at his neck, sucking on a spot like he likes the sound.

Bennett desperately hopes it won't bruise. He wouldn't have the first idea as to how to explain that. Then, his mental focus is kind of all over the place at the moment.

"Austin," he repeats, a little firmer, and Austin lifts his head then. Bennett can see the blue of his eyes even in the dim lighting.

Haroldes doesn't say anything, just raises his eyebrows in question.

Bennett doesn't really know what he plans to say, but apparently some part of his brain was working ahead of him while the majority of his focus was on Haroldes' ministrations, because without hesitation he says, "Didn't realize that teachers making out made you hot. I'll keep that in mind."

Haroldes let's out a little huff of air in amusement. Bennett can feel what's pressing against his thigh soften slightly at the words, and he can't quite quell himself enough to keep his mouth twitching in amusement, and, if he's honest, some smugness.

"You're such a little shit," Haroldes says.

Bennett nips at his bottom lip and pulls away again. "You started it this time. Don't pin it on me."

Haroldes shakes his head. "Fair enough."

He expects Haroldes to back off then, put as much space between them as is possible in the confined, limited amount of room they've been given. Instead, he lowers he his head again, moving over Bennett's neck again, except this time it's... gentler. Slower, with just light presses and lips ghosting over his skin. With the way the closet is dark, and Bennett isn't doing anything but lying against the stack of books as Haroldes works over his neck, he's acutely aware of all the sensations of it: the dampened heat of his breath snaking beneath the collar of Bennett's shirt, the difference between tongue and teeth and lips and an open mouth, his hands lightly brushing Bennett's sides.

Bennett doesn't really understand it. It seems almost out of character, with the two of them usually grappling at each other with their kissing acting closer to a battle than any sort of romanticism. But there's nothing that's overwhelming in this, nothing harsh, just Haroldes working Bennett's over slowly and carefully, soft enough not to bruise, like he just wants to. Maybe he does. Bennett can imagine why that would be the only motivation now.

Suddenly, there's a rattling outside that Bennett recognizes as the table three rows down. (Cooper once dismantled the whole thing it hook in a string of marbles into the leg and that completely reassemble it. Just so it would rattle. Mr. Oaken just rolled his eyes and left him to it since he wasn't breaking anything, but Bennett didn't really understand the whole thing.) Austin lifts his head and looks back at the doors of the closet.

"Shit, forgot that table did that," Bennett hears Mr. Kyburn say. He assumes the man suddenly straightens, taking his weight off the table, because the table lets out another echoing rattle like a the backwards cousin of a windchime before it quiets.

"This was lovely, Ronald," the woman's voice says.

"Any time, Anne," Mr. Kyburn replies.

Austin turns to Bennett and sticks his finger into his mouth, miming a gaggin motion. Bennett bites his lip so he doesn't laugh. Only that reminds him of how tender it is, which sobers him enough that he can let go of it.

He and Haroldes listen to the door open and close, closing with a quiet click. They both wait for about ten seconds with baited breath, wondering if the two forgot something they'll come back for, before each of them seems to lose their patience and they reach for the doors, pushing them open and tumbling out in unison.

Haroldes, since he was standing in front of him, stumbles and then bangs straight into the table in the back row. Bennett falls right onto him, an involuntary puff of breath pushing out of him in a primitive sounding "oomph" type of noise. Haroldes takes his shoulders and straightens Bennett back up, and Bennett, embarrassed and overly aware of how close they'd just been, takes a step back.

The two of them just stand there for a while, gazes locked and breathing heavy, before Haroldes finally speaks. "I'm so proud of you for coming out of the closet, Netter."

Bennett punches him in the shoulder.

A smile twitches at the corner of Haroldes' mouth. "I feel like it's starting to become a trend that our conversations go this way."

Bennett can't help it, he snorts. "Once again, you started it."

Haroldes tilts his head. "Not every time. Though I'm happy to say that two out of three ain't bad."

Beyond his control, Bennett can feel a blush rise to his face. He hates everything in that moment.

He's expecting mockery, and maybe he gets a little, but it's a more of a poke than a hit. Haroldes smiles, and then says, "aw, you look so pretty when you blush."

Bennett narrows his eyes. It feels a little harsh, but his pride is hurting, so he tells him, "Fuck you."

"Not yet, dear. We've only kissed three times."

Bennett shoves him in the chest, sending him reeling against the desk. Haroldes catches himself with a heavy hand pressed to the surface, laughing.

"You're a jackass," Bennett tells him.

Haroldes smiles again, and it seems like a modified version of his crooked grin, softer somehow. "Maybe, but I'm a hell of a good kisser."

Bennett rolls his eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Another head tilt, another studying look. "Looking forward to it."

Bennett doesn't know if he's teasing or serious, maybe lying somewhere in between. He doesn't know what to say without knowing what Haroldes means by that, so he just goes to get his bag that been kicked out of sight under the table, glancing back at Haroldes before he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yeah, I think whenever I start describing kiss scenes, things get out of hand. I can't help it; I feel like things are moving too fast otherwise!
> 
> References Include:
> 
> A Song of Ice and Fire series by George R. R. Martin, as well as the companion TV show Game of Thrones
> 
> Les Miserables
> 
> Legally Blonde
> 
> I should probably also note here that I've never seen or read Les Miserables. I'm sorry. I'll get to it. I assume that they don't even actually say "Viva la France", but there was (and probably still is) a whole thing with the Quebec separatist movement using the phrase "Viva la Quebec". Since Luc grew up there, just assume that's his version of being like "I do what I want." His French Canadian version of YOLO, I suppose.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bennett looks around, feeling slightly out of place. Even though he's been here before, he still feels out of his skin, always seems to whenever he goes to anyone else's houses. There's a similarity to all of them that Bennett's own house seems to lack, a lived-in-ness, a homely quality. His mother's rarely home, all of their furniture expensive and pristine, so that their house smells more like cleanliness, a lack of anything, instead of the way all of his friend's homes seem to smell like class projects and cooked meals and people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Somehow I managed to write a fairly long chapter in which not much happens... Not sure how that happened. Anyway, at least it's an update!

Usually, Bennett doesn't see Haroldes until their first class, where there's often some element of Haroldes annoying him from where he sits behind Bennett. This morning, Haroldes makes an appearance at their locker bank to say hello before first block.

"Hello everyone!" Haroldes says, and before any of them can react he's draped himself over Bennett's back, chin propped on his shoulder.

Bennett stops where he's shuffling through his locker, bewildered. He tries to glance over his shoulder to see Haroldes without turning his head, but he can't quite manage so he just gets a blur of peach coloured skin at the edge of his vision. However, he can see Cooper looking surprised and a little amused, and Jasmine shooting Haroldes a narrow-eyed look.

"Hi...?" Alison says from Bennett's other side.

Bennett pushes his mouth together around a smile.

He tilts his head to the side, looking at Haroldes and raising an eyebrow. "Hey there."

"Morning," Haroldes replies, ducking forward to kiss Bennett on the cheek before he pulls away.

Silence reigns over the group of them.

Unbidden, a snort escapes out of Bennett's throat before he claps a hand over his mouth.

"Something funny, Netter?" Haroldes asks, amusement evident in his voice.

Without looking, Bennett elbows him in the stomach where he's standing behind him. "Shut up."

Haroldes lets out a huff from the elbow and then chuckles slightly. Rolling his eyes, Bennett dives back into his locker with one hand as he wipes the moisture off of his cheek with the other.

"I'm offended you don't appreciate my affection."

"Sure," Bennett says, sarcastic.

"Is this actually happening right now?" Alison stage-whispers.

"This is some body-swap shit right here," Cooper adds in the same voice.

" _Goodbye_ ," Bennett tells them, before he turns and walks off to his first-period class.

* * *

 

It only takes a few more days before the Halloween decorations go up.

"So," Jasmine says as she strides up without as much as a hello, "are we finally doing the scary movie marathon?"

"No thank you," Bridget says, and Bennett thinks that if she wasn't black her skin would be turning white as a sheet.

"Oh, come  _on_ , Bridget."

"Ali," Bridget whines, turning to Alison for support.

Alison keeps a stone straight face. "Sorry, but the idea of you snuggling up to me and coming to me for support is actually appealing."

Bridget slumps against the lockers. "None of you support me, and I will be plagued by zombie nightmares for the rest of my life."

Luc claps a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, I'll stick with you if you want."

Cooper shoots Luc a sceptical look. "You're just a wimp."

Luc salutes him back. "Absolutely."

"Austin, Ben, Peter?" Jasmine asks.

Austin shakes his head. "Wish I could, but I promised that I'd take my little sister trick or treating."

Peter shrugs. "I'm in."

"René would probably do it if you asked her," Luc adds.

Jasmine points at him. "That is a good addition. Good job, Luc, point to you."

Luc tilts his head. "Are we keeping score?"

Cooper flicks him.

"Bennnnn?" Jasmine prods Bennett.

"No thanks," he says, sweeping off a piece of his bangs that fell into his eyes. Austin eyes flicker over to him for just a second at the movement. "Ask Giles or something."

Jasmine purses her lips. "I don't really know him."

"You'd like him," Luc says absent-mindedly, focused on batting away Cooper, who's trying to poke him in the side. "He's pretty much impossible to faze."

"I'll ask René and decide from there," Jasmine replies, shrugging.

Cooper finally manages to grab passed Luc's guard and clutches his arm, twisting it up behind his back. Luc's trying to get away at the same time that Cooper's unwilling to let go, so they up falling against the lockers with a clang.

"Uncle!" Luc cries, and Cooper lets go and backs off. Luc pushes himself up and scowls at him, rotating his shoulder with his other hand pressed to it. Cooper, instead of looking apologetic, rolls his eyes. "Anyway," Luc says, turning to Bridget, "I'd be cool to hang out instead of doing scary movies. I think they're doing a themed poetry night at that cafe downtown; we could hit up Bulk Barn and then go."

Cooper's eyebrows crease. "What's Bulk Barn?" he asks, speaking for them all.

Luc gets an annoyed and vaguely offended look on his face. " _Americans._  You don't have Bulk Barn?"

"What's that?" Alison jabs him in the side to get his attention, as though speaking isn't enough to get him to look at her.

"It's a Canadian candy store that lets you take a ton of all different kinds of candy all at once. All they sell is candy." Luc answers, squirming away from Alison. "Additionally, why are all you Americans so annoying?"

"Careful, you're outnumbered," Cooper tells him, right before he pulls him into a headlock and musses his hair. Luc slips out of it and shoves Cooper in the shoulder.

"I'm sure we can still find candy somewhere and go," Bridget supplies, ever the peace maker.

"Oh shit," Haroldes says suddenly, causing all of them to look at him. "I forgot, dammit."

Jasmine arches an eyebrow. "Forgot...?"

Haroldes sighs. "My parents always let me take Gem out on my own before, so I didn't think of it, but they wanted me to bring a friend this year since we only moved a month ago and they think I don't know the city very well."

Alison shrugs. "Ben's still not doing anything."

Bennett freezes up at the same time that everyone's eyes swivel to him. He has to resist the urge to take a step back.

"Pleeeeeeease?" Haroldes pleads, pressing his palms together.

"I'm not -"  _I'm not sure we can be the only ones around each other without it ending in semi-hostile kissing._ "I don't know."

" _Please_ ," Haroldes says, and then drops to his knees and clutches at Bennett's pant legs. Bennett's so startled he nearly jumps back, but Haroldes' grip is keeping him grounded.

"Austin," he hisses, "get off the floor."

Haroldes looks up at him, eyes a little mischievous. "Not until you agree."

"Christ," Bennett says under his breath, then, a little louder, "Fine, fine."

"Yes!" Haroldes leaps to his feet, throwing his arms around Bennett. "You are my favourite."

Bennett, trapped like a python's prey in the embrace, manages to get his hands up to Haroldes' shoulders to knock him away. "Don't push it."

* * *

 

Bennett gets a text the next day, in the middle of when he's doing his homework. He glances up at the clock, figures that it's not that bad a time to take a break anyway, and slips off the kitchen counter's stool to head for a snack as he pulls his phone out.

 _Hey_ , it reads,  _This is Austin, got ur # from Peter. Taking Gem out 7ish so will pck u up b4. Txt me ur address_.

After cringing at the text talk, and then again at imagining all the things Haroldes could do with his address and phone number, he gives himself a short reprieve from having to reply by pulling out the sashimi from the fridge. His mom had gone out to a corporate dinner the night before with some of her producers from Japan that were visiting America, so they were more than relieved to have a traditional dinner. She'd brought the leftovers home for him, but he hadn't eaten them then since he'd already cooked dinner for himself. The fish wouldn't keep forever though.

After setting out a plate in front of him, he ate with the chopsticks in one hand while looking over the message on his phone again with the other. By the time he'd finished all the pieces, he'd finally composed a response.

 _I can just meet you somewhere halfway._  He typed out, and then sent. After that, he got up to put his dishes away while waiting for a response. Obviously Haroldes could type pretty quickly, because there was one waiting for him after the short break.

_U cant drive wudnt be fair. Can pck u up wont take long._

Bennett sighs and rubs his forehead.

He got himself into this.

 _Fine._  He texts, and all he adds on is his address before he sends the text and shuts his phone off completely. He prefers chemistry homework to Haroldes.

* * *

 

The next day, when Mr. Kyburn finishes lecturing, he gives them time to work on homework at the end of class. (Bennett is still firmly trying to forget him making out with a secretary. It tends to come back randomly in the middle of class. Bennett hopes he's not making any faces since he sits in the front row.) The immediate second Mr. Kyburn sits at his desk and the shuffling of papers starts, Haroldes kicks the back of Bennett's chair.

Bennett jolts, arching his back away from the chair in surprise before he turns to Haroldes, scowling. Haroldes eyes are dropped to the back of his chair, where Bennett's torso is still half turned, before he raises them to Bennett's face.

"What?" Bennett whispers.

Haroldes tilts his head. "Are you dressing up for Halloween?"

Bennett stares at him. " _That's_  your question?"

Haroldes shrugs. "It's only a couple questions we could be doing otherwise. I feel like this is more important."

Bennett puts his face into his hand. "I can't believe you." The words come out muffled.

"That's nice. Are you dressing up?"

Bennett sighs and picks his head back up. "No."

Haroldes raises his eyebrows. "Why not?"

"We're sixteen. It's stupid," Bennett says. He doesn't say that he almost never dressed up as a kid anyway. His dad used to take him when he was younger, but after the divorce the practice sort fell away. He didn't have close friends he'd rather go with and his mother didn't care very much about the western holiday.

"It's not stupid!" Haroldes say, indignant. A few people look over, and Bennett just rolls his eyes. "Don't tell me that most people don't dress up at this school?"

Bennett shrugs a shoulder. "Most people do. Just not me."

Haroldes presses his lips together. "Fine. But  _I'm_  dressing up, and you have to walk around with me and my twelve year old sister and everyone else and feel left out."

Bennett levels him an unamused look. "Isn't that why I'm going? Adult supervision?"

Haroldes kicks the back of his chair again.

Bennett snorts and turns back around.

He hears the creaking of Haroldes chair behind him, and then the warmth of him at his back, his breath spilling over shell of Bennett's ear as he leans in to whisper, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you're boring. I guess you just.. contain it. Can't say that I don't like being the one to know your dirty little secret."

Bennett doesn't respond, just slumps down into his seat like he's trying to sink into the ground, tugs his collar up so that the way his face is flushing is hopefully less noticeable.

* * *

 

On Halloween, school is a gongshow. Bridget and Alison go for the cliché costumes, with Bridget bundled up as a cute pumpkin, Alison sleek as a black cat next to her. Jasmine's dressed up as the protagonist from Portal, (Bennett can't remember her name, isn't sure if she even has one.) and Peter is dressed as Batman. Bennett isn't even surprised by that one, as much as he wishes he could be.

"I'm Batman," Peter says in a deep voice as soon as Bennett walks up.

Bennett levels him with a dry look. "Really."

Bennett hears a snort behind him, and turns to find the rest of the group. Luc and Cooper are standing there, Cooper dressed as a plastic army man, face smeared with green paint. Luc's standing next to him, looking classy with a half-mask on his face as well as formal clothes and a swirling cape, so even if Bennett's not that familiar with the play it's fairly obvious that he's going for Phantom of the Opera. René and Giles are standing just behind them, or at least Bennett assumes so, because Giles is dressed like he would on any other day, but standing beside him is a slightly shorter version of the grim reaper, complete with a huge plastic scythe.

And behind them is the source of the snort, Haroldes, standing there looking smug in a scarecrow costume. And  _he'd_  made fun of Bennett.

Bennett looks at René, since that's easier at the moment than it is to deal with anyone else. "I'm surprised they let you in with that and it wasn't confiscated as a potential weapon."

René brandishes the scythe. "It's hollow, which is what I think got me the pass."

Luc rolls his eyes. "I think they're just afraid."

René shrugs, the heavy black fabric moving with the motion. "That works too."

"I'm Batman," Peter says again in the same deep voice.

René points her scythe at his chest. "And the Dark Knight is still no match for death."

Peter takes a step back.

"Good choice," René comments, lowering the scythe.

"Don't actually kill anyone," Luc adds, dry.

René gives another shrug. "No promises."

"Well then, with that lovely and reassuring addition," Alison cuts in clapping her hands, "I think we have classes to get to?"

"Yeah, c'mon regular human," Haroldes says, coming up to throw his arm around Bennett's shoulders. Bennett turns to scowl at him, but Haroldes seems unaffected.

"Want to make a bet on how many geishas, ninjas, and samurai warriors we see?" Jasmine asks Bennett, voice un-amused. Neither of them looks forward to this part of Halloween.

"Bet I see at least two Indians," Cooper adds in.

"I bet five people dressed in something Chinese," Jasmine fires back.

"You're on."

Cooper and Jasmine shake on it, looking determined. When they turn to Bennett he rolls his eyes.

"Too many," he says.

Jasmine puts a hand on her hip. "Too true, but I'm not counting that as a bet."

"I'm not in."

"Suit yourself."

"C'mon, we have English," Haroldes says, shaking Bennett by the shoulders slightly.

Bennett shoots him a narrow look over his shoulder. "What? So you can impress Mr. Kyburn by insisting you're paying tribute to literature through the Wizard of Oz?"

Haroldes pouts. "Don't diss the scarecrow, man." He suddenly lights up then. "Besides, this isn't my only costume. I've got a different one for going out tonight."

Bennett rolls his eyes. "You're ridiculous."

"Thank you," Haroldes replies, and Bennett knows any insistence over his meaning would just boost Haroldes' mood, so he just shrugs off the arm around his shoulders and marches off to English.

* * *

 

Bennett makes it through the day without much ribbing about his lack of costume, except for from Haroldes, who is absolutely merciless about it. Which is bullshit, because Giles also doesn't have a costume, and Haroldes hasn't said a goddamn word about it. Neither Jasmine or Cooper win their bet, unfortunately because they both hit their estimated numbers.

Bennnett takes a deep breath of relief when he gets home, gratefully drops his backpack next to one of the barstools and takes out some of the fried rice leftovers to polish off.

He sits down and does homework, partially because he has no idea how long he'll be out with the Haroldes spawn, but also because it's the only way he can think of to keep his mind occupied so that he doesn't dwell on it. He isn't entirely successful, sits and tries to work on equations from Physics, only to get reminded of something that Haroldes had done or said in class when they'd been learning it, but the only class he  _doesn't_  have with Haroldes is biology, and most of what he needs to do is memorization, which doesn't take up enough of his focus to preoccupy him.

He gets up just to put away his dishes just to give him something physical, but it still doesn't seem to do much.

By the time Haroldes calls at him at 7:17, Bennett's barely gotten any work done, is firmly stuck inside his own head, and not in the focused way he gets when he's working on problems. It feels more like quicksand, sucking him down slowly, the more he squirms the quicker he sinks until it bubbles over his head.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when his phone rings. He barely waits to check the caller ID, already certain of the caller.

"Hello," he says into the line like a resignation.

"Netter," Haroldes says, and Bennett scowls even if Haroldes can't see it, "I'm on my way over. Sure you haven't changed your mind on the costume front?"

"Sure," Bennett answers, short.

"Pity. See you soon." Haroldes hands up then, leaving Bennett to pull the phone away from his ear and stare at it, the only answer to the point of that short conversation the dial tone. Eventually Bennett puts the phone back in its cradle, grabs a jacket and his cellphone before going out to wait on his front steps.

Haroldes pulls up, nearly blinding Bennett with the headlights despite that it's barely dim out (Bennett suspects he did it on purpose) and hops out to approach Bennett, glancing at where he's sitting before he scans the house behind him. "You're not going to invite me in?"

"No," Bennett says, getting to his feet. He could make an excuse, say that they're going to be leaving right away anyway, but he doesn't. He just really doesn't want Haroldes in his house, and he feels a little sharp vindictiveness over letting him know it, no matter how subtly.

Haroldes frowns, but he doesn't fight the issue, just gestures over his shoulder in a "follow me" gesture before he climbs back into the sedan.

Bennett hoists himself up into the passenger seat, nervousness crawling through his veins as he straps himself in. He feels too wired to sit still, but he's not the type to jump about, so he ends up jiggling his leg and hopes Haroldes doesn't notice or think too much about it.

"Does your sister know I'm coming along?" Bennett asks, tucking some of his bangs behind his ear.

Haroldes nods, eyes on the road. "I told them the day you agreed. My Mom's thrilled that you offered, Gem doesn't seem to care either way."

"Alright," Bennett replies, turning with a shrug to look out the window. They don't talk for the rest of the drive, and Bennett feels like the lack of conversation is awkward, but Haroldes doesn't seem to notice, focused on the road and occasionally fiddling with the radio dial.

Eventually they pull into a pocket of suburban houses, and Haroldes slows down in front of a pretty eggshell blue house before he turns to stop in front of it.

Haroldes parks in the driveway, getting out and waiting in front of the car for Bennett to get out and loop around. He leads Bennett up the drive and lopes up the front steps to the door, pulls a keyring strung to a lanyard out of his bag and starts to unlock it. Bennett looks around, feeling slightly out of place. Even though he's been here before, he still feels out of his skin, always seems to whenever he goes to anyone else's houses. There's a similarity to all of them that Bennett's own house seems to lack, a lived-in-ness, a homely quality. His mother's rarely home, all of their furniture expensive and pristine, so that their house smells more like cleanliness, a lack of anything, instead of the way all of his friend's homes seem to smell like class projects and cooked meals and people.

Haroldes gets the door open, waits for Bennett inside before closing it. Haroldes' mother rounds the corner into the kitchen shortly after, seeming to have been called by the sound of the door.

"Hello, dear," she says, approaching them with a smile as she wipes her hands off with a dish rag that she puts overflowing into her pocket a moment later. "Bennett, right?" She shakes Bennett's hand as she asks.

Bennett's surprise at her getting her name right after only having met him once must show, because her smile turns more welcoming, almost coaxing. "Austin's talked about you," she tells him as she lets go of his hand.

 _He has?_  Bennett's even more startled, hopes it doesn't show any more than in the way that he blinks. He can't imagine Haroldes saying horrible things about him to his parents, but he doesn't know what else Haroldes would have to say.

"Oh, there's the tour guide," Jennifer says, rounding the hallway shortly after her mother.

"Jenny," her mother admonishes. Jennifer barely blinks.

"You didn't dress up?"

Bennett shakes his head.

"Lame," Jennifer comments.

"Jennifer Penelope Haroldes," the mother says in a warning tone. Jennifer, instead of apologizing, disappears back around the corner.

Bennett turns to raise an eyebrow at Haroldes. "Is there a middle name of yours I should know about?"

Haroldes glares at him, but over Bennett's shoulder, Mrs. Haroldes helpfully chimes in with "Theodore."

Bennett snorts. Haroldes swats at him.

"You don't have a middle name?" Haroldes asks.

Bennett shrugs. "No."

He doesn't mention that his mother gave him both an English and a Japanese name when he was born. He can only imagine Haroldes trying to pronounce it.

Haroldes turns down the hallway, gesturing Bennett after him, and Bennett follows because, well, he wants to be a good guest to the parents, but also because he has nowhere else to go.

"What are you dressed as?" Bennett asks Jennifer, who's sitting at a barstool at the counter, eating crackers, her mother seeming to have given up on trying to reign her in.

"A wendigo," Jennifer answers, which makes the pieces of ripped red fabric hanging off of her black clothes make a lot more sense. "I wanted to wear red contacts too, but Mom wouldn't me," she tells him, pointing at where her eyes are rimmed by red eye-liner.

"Creative," Bennett comments.

"Thank you," Jennifer says, seeming genuinely pleased.

"Austin," the mother interrupts, "don't you have to change?"

"Oh yeah," Haroldes replies. He turns to Bennett and gestures. "C'mon."

Bennett's not sure why he's following Haroldes up the stairs and into his room, but he does it anyway. He's been in here once before, but he'd been too stirred up to really process it, so he looks around now. It's a little strange, especially compared to Bennett's room. He's got green walls and standard off-white carpet, wood furniture with clothes strung all over it and across the floor, posters put up on half of the room.

Haroldes catches Bennett looking. "I have more, but it's taking me a while to get them all back up after the move."

Bennett's almost startled by the reminder. Haroldes had done such a number on him when he'd shown up that it's hard to remember it's barely been a month since he showed up.

"Ah, here it is," Haroldes says, pulling a giant yellow sphere from underneath his bed.

Bennett raises his eyebrows.

Haroldes tosses the huge ball onto the bed with a scoff. "Don't give that look. The whole thing's foam and I had to paint it myself; I didn't want it to get damaged at school."

"What are you, the baby sun from Teletubbies?" Bennett says sarcastically.

"Pacman," Haroldes says, scouring along his floor again. "Just sit down for a second, I need to get this on."

Bennett looks around, but there's nowhere to sit except the empty expanse of Haroldes' bed, the covers still unmade. It makes Bennett flush a little, warmth spiralling out of his stomach and up into his throat, body humming with nerves, knowing that he'll sit where Haroldes' has slept.

He settles a little hesitantly, feeling like if he shifts too much he'll be caught up by the sheets, tangled around his legs. He looks up then, watching Haroldes' pull a long-sleeved yellow shirt out of a pile of questionably clean clothing. (It doesn't smell, so Bennett supposes that's at least a plus.) "Ah! Here it is," Haroldes declares, holding out the shirt at arms length so he can look at it with triumph.

Bennett stares at him. "Great...?"

Haroldes rolls his eyes, tossing the shirt onto the bed beside the giant yellow head. Body? Head-body? "I wanted to change my shirt to match the costume, since my arms will show," he says, gesturing towards the ball that's resting next to Bennett.

"I don't think I really understand why you need a different costume," Bennett says, eyes caught on a book half hidden under Haroldes' bed. He picks it up, turning to the back to skim the premise before turning to the front page.

"You wouldn't, you're boring. Someone who doesn't dress up wouldn't understand the importance of keeping certain costumes in pristine condition."

"Like under your bed?" Bennett returns, tone bone dry.

Haroldes shoots him a look. "It was  _safe_."

"Sure, that's the reason," Bennett says, glancing up at Haroldes for a moment.

At that second, Haroldes grabs the bottom of his grey tee, arms crossed over each other, and pulls it up and straight over his head. Bennett drops the book in surprise.

Haroldes looks over at him at the sound of the book hitting the floor, and then starts to laugh. "You're blushing."

Bennett, unable to deny the heat rushing into his cheeks, just glares. "A little warning would have been nice."

Haroldes shrugs. "We're both guys."

"I'm pretty sure that argument doesn't hold much water considering I've had your tongue in my mouth."

Haroldes, still topless but holding his shirt bundled up in his hands, raises an eyebrow at Bennett. He flushes further, wishing at that he could control it. Haroldes snorts. "I don't have any plans to strip. It's just a shirt." He waves the fabric at Bennett mockingly. "Or do you get bothered by shirtless guys in swimsuits too?"

Bennett, scowling, reaches down and picks the book back up. "Whatever. Just put your shirt on."

Haroldes tosses the shirt he'd been wearing onto his floor without looking, which obviously means he doesn't have any system of how much everything has been worn, as much as Bennett was holding onto that dim hope. He picks up the yellow shirt and takes a moment to set it to rights, untwisting it and pulling out one of the sleeves that had turned inside out. Because of this, Bennett can clearly see his upper body, and as much as he feels awkward and embarrassed, he looks anyway. Haroldes is probably what Bennett would describe as lean, he doesn't know much about fitness or muscles, but Haroldes is either in good shape or his muscles define more easily, because Bennett can see the way his stomach's been boxed into abdominal muscles. He has a four pack, and Bennett thinks that at least he's not cliché enough to accidentally make out with someone with a six pack.

Haroldes pulls the shirt over his head, grabbing the huge yellow sphere off of the bed. "C'mon, pipsqueak."

Bennett glares at him. "I'm regretting the decision to come with you already."

Haroldes quirks an eyebrow, beckoning Bennett with a finger before he turns and swings around the door frame.

"Asshole," Bennett mutters to himself, but for some reason, he gets up and follows anyway. After he places the book on Haroldes' desk, that is, not that he has much hope that he'll take care of it.

* * *

 

All in all, the whole thing doesn't go that badly.

Haroldes is annoying, but that's predicted, and the fact that he's speaking out a giant mouth isn't really as off-putting as it probably could be. Jennifer, looking like a sweet young girl, gets a lot of smiles and "what are you, dear"s that she smiles at then declares herself a wendigo. Most of the adults blink in confusion, and when she specifies that it's a cannibalistic creature from originally from Algonquian legend. None of them seem to know how to take the revelation.

They get a lot of unsure smiles, followed by handfuls of candy and then the door being closed.

"They don't know what to think of you," Haroldes says, laughter in his voice.

Jennnifer, walking ahead of them, spins around to grin at them as she starts to walk backwards. "I know! It's great. This my best costume yet."

"Don't know how you're going to top it, then."

"Cthulhu," Bennett suggests.

Jennifer's eyes widens. "You," she said, pointing a finger at him, "are a  _genius_."

Bennett snorts.

"Thank you, I'm going to be making a tentacle beard next year," Haroldes grouses.

Jennifer looks him in the eye, voice grave. "All's fair in love and Halloween."

Then she trips backward over the curb she'd come up to, unaware that they'd walked up to a street corner. Haroldes busts up laughing, because he's immature, and Bennett goes forward and helps her up, because he's clearly the adult here. (He wonders briefly which one of them is actually older, knows they're both sixteen but doesn't have the first clue as to when Haroldes' birthday is. He doesn't have the courage to ask out of the blue either.)

"Thanks," Jennifer says after she's on her feet, then she grips tighter onto Bennett's hand, using her other hand to grab him by the arm, bringing it to her mouth and opening it, gaping wide.

Bennett jerks back in surprise, pulling his arm out of her grasp. Both of the siblings crack up.

Bennett scowls. "Seriously wondering why I agreed to this right now."

"Because I'm cute," Jennifer says, grinning, as she reaches up on her tiptoes to throw her arm around his shoulders. It's a little too reminiscent of Haroldes for Bennett's liking, so he shrugs her off.

"See? He came because  _I'm_  cute." Haroldes wiggles his eyebrows at his sister.

Bennett wishes he could snap at either one of them, but he doesn't really have any reason for being there other than having no reason  _not_  to be, which he imagines probably isn't a strong argument.

Bennett reaches a hand up and rubs at his forehead. "Yeah, yeah. Moving on."

They've probably looped through a dozen different neighbourhoods by the time they're done, and they only stop because Haroldes and Jennifer have filled up their bags.

"You could  _help_ ," Jennifer says, looking at Bennett narrowed-eyed. She's practically staggering under the weight of the candy, though he suspects that's more for dramatic effect.

Bennett shrugs. "You collected all of that, you have to bear the consequence."

Jennifer glares harder. Haroldes snorts. "Get used to it, he's this crabby all the time."

Bennett scowls at Haroldes, but he just winks back. Bennett turns away quickly.

"Oh thank god, we're almost home," Jennifer cries as they come out one of the sidewalk paths and onto the street where the Haroldes home is clearly visible.

"The door should still be unlocked after all the trick-or-treat-ers, so just open it for us," Haroldes says to Bennett. Bennett shoots a glare over his shoulder, but complies.

"Mooooooooooooooom," Jennifer shouts into the house, dropping the bag of candy and sliding down to lie face first on the entry hall floor.

Mrs. Haroldes rounds the corner, expression curious at first, but as soon she lies eyes on her daughter it falls into exasperation. "Jenny, get up," she says, rolling her eyes.

"I don't want tooooo," she whines, face still pressed to the floor. Haroldes walks over and nudges her in the side with his foot.

"I'll just take the candy you got then, since you obviously don't care enough to put it away."

Jennifer springs to her feet. "I'm good," she says, grabbing her bag and rounding the corner in a flash. Bennett can clearly hear her racing up the stairs a second later.

"Charming, isn't she?" Haroldes says.

Mrs. Haroldes shoots him a tired look, before she turns to Bennett. "Thank you so much for watching them, dear. I know Austin's looked after Jenny on his own before, but it's a comfort to have someone else there to help."

"No problem," Bennett says, polite.

"I doubt that they were that angelic," the mother replies, and Haroldes turns to her with a pout that she ignores. "Would you like a ride home? I can take you now, I'm sure there won't be many more kids and Austin's home to take care of it."

"I can take him," Haroldes offers before Bennett can say anything.

"You did drive him here, but if you're tired -"

"No Mom, I can do it. He's my responsibility."

The mother smiles at these words, as though pleased by Haroldes' supposed maturity. "Alright then." She turns and disappears back down the hall.

Haroldes turns to Bennett. "Wait just a second, I have to take my bag up." Before Bennett can say anything, even if he wanted, Haroldes is off.

He feels frustratingly silenced in that whole conversation, but he'll be going home soon, so he tamps it down. Looking around the entryway into the house, he notices for the first time all the pictures strung up on the walls.

They're the traditional family photos, with group pictures and annual school photos and each child's milestones. There's a picture of Haroldes, little, sitting on a bicycle and grinning, gap-toothed. Bennett looks away, discomfited for reasons he can't entirely explain.

The sound of Haroldes trampling down the stairs comes clearly then, a second before he rounds the corner again. "Ready to go?" he asks.

"Ready," Bennett replies, walking out of the house without looking back.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bennett stares at him, jaw locked, but he already knows that if he fights this it'll be a losing battle. It's better to save his reserves for later, he supposes. "More to know about your favourite test subject?" Bennett asks, defeated.
> 
> "Something like that." Haroldes says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey there! So I'm going to bring this up again and say that for any of you that have a tumblr, if you want to know more about this story, there's a tumblr specifically for this fic-verse over at the url starburst-sunbeam, the same as my author name here. I'm somewhat of a narcissist about my own writing, so if any of you have any questions, I would be thrilled to answer them, whether that be about what another character might be thinking in a specific scene or anything about backstory, or any little things that don't fit over them. If something comes up and I think an update will be delayed because of it, it'll most likely come up over there, and I also always post about updates there, so if you'd like that you can go check it out.

Most of the group of them looks exhausted at school the next morning.

Bennett raises an eyebrow at Cooper's sleep-slackened face and the way Peter's rubbing at his eyes. "Fun night?"

Jasmine snorts. "They're both fucking babies. Alison's the only one with a backbone."

Cooper flashes her the middle finger. "It's not my fault you're sadistic."

Jasmine bares her teeth in a smile.

Alison rolls her eyes. "Whatever. How was your poetry night?" she says, turning to her girlfriend. "I meant to ask you last night, but it was already pretty late by the time we finished up so I left it."

"It was good," Bridget answers, smiling slightly at the attentiveness of her girlfriend.

"There was way too much Edgar Allen Poe, but otherwise they had some pretty good selections. And Bridget has kickass candy taste, unlike  _some people_ ," Luc says, giving Cooper a pointed look at the end.

Cooper throws his hands up. "What? We all have our tastes."

"And yours is black licorice and the green jellybeans, which is gross."

Bridget's nose wrinkles. "I have to agree with that."

"None of you defend me," Cooper sniffs.

"How was trick or treating?" Jasmine asks, leaning onto the lockers mostly using her hip. "Regret missing out on scary movies?"

Haroldes rolls his eyes. "Gem's great. Even if it sucked, it's tradition to go with her."

Jasmine doesn't reply, eyes shifting over to Bennett. "And you?"

Bennett shrugs, nudging Luc aside to get into his locker. "It was fine."

"Fine?" Jasmine's eyebrows rise.

Bennett shoots her a quelling look, silently conveying to her not to press him. "Yes."

"Sounds like a party," she says, dry.

Haroldes pushes at her shoulder. "It  _was_  fun. Netter's just being Netter."

The entire group of them turn to look at Haroldes, except Bennett, still digging through his books and ignoring the lot of them. " _Netter?_ " Alison finally says.

"Yeah, it's the nickname I gave him."

There's a beat of silence, and then Jasmine's voice, wryly amused, "I'm surprised you're still alive."

Bennett silently rolls his eyes to himself.

"What can I say? He likes me," Haroldes says.

Bennett turns around and pats Haroldes on the chest. "You keep telling yourself that."

Alison chokes on a laugh, and satisfaction hums through Bennett.

"C'mon, admit it, I'm your favourite," Haroldes wiggles his eyebrows, and it looks ridiculous, and Bennett has to fight not to think that it's a little bit charming on him, in a unbelievably dorky way.

Bennett closes his locker, turning and walking off to English as he throws over his shoulder, "If that's what you really believe, you might want to reassess your ability to read people."

Haroldes only grins in response.

* * *

 

Later in the day is another scholastic club meeting.

Cooper and Haroldes are already in the middle of a conversation when Bennett walks in, and Bennett catches the trail end of Cooper saying, "You're really not  _that_  good looking."

Haroldes leans back in his chair. "You're only saying that because I'm not your type. And because you've never seen me with my shirt off."

Without thinking Bennett says, "You don't look that good shirtless."

Jasmine, a couple rows behind the boys, looks up and arches a questioning eyebrow at Bennett. "How do you know that?"

Bennett can feel his face heat at the implication. "Austin decided to change his costume to take his sister trick-or-treating, which apparently required switching shirts  _in front_  of me."

"You liked it," Haroldes says. Which isn't really relevant.

"Who liked what?" Alison asks, coming up behind Bennett as she enters the room.

" _Nobody_  liked  _anything,_ " Bennett bites, glaring at Haroldes, who only smiles back.

Mr. Oaken comes in then, which pulls the conversation to a close. "How was your Halloween, everyone?"

"Apparently more shirtless for some than others," Jasmine says with a smirk. Bennett gives her the darkest look he can muster.

* * *

 

Haroldes seems to consider it funny to tease Bennett, to push him to the edges of what he can stand only to pull back and wait for Bennett to calm before prodding again. It's a cycle, and Bennett feels out of sorts, riding a wave of emotions that Haroldes brings out of him that he can't quell, going from anger to embarrassment to a mix to reluctant fondness and back again. He hates being the play thing, the one out being controlled instead of in control, puppet strings now placed into Haroldes waiting hands.

Bennett tells himself that he's not going to kiss Haroldes again.

His pact only lasts four days.

Bennett's volunteering in the school library, organizing and putting away books, marking new ones with dewey decimal stickers on the spine. Haroldes comes in, likely only there at the same time by accident, but when he spots Bennett he decides to keep ribbing him until the entire room is empty, everyone else having left, because Haroldes apparently is more amused by Bennett than anything he can do in his own time. It doesn't take long after they're alone for Bennett's control to snap, Haroldes pushing into his space, teasing more, bolder now that he doesn't have an audience.

He whirls around, grabbing Haroldes by the collar so he can snap a warning into his face, but the second his hands curl into fabric Haroldes presses forward, mouth on his, backing Bennett up against the librarian's desk, the two of them lined up from shoulders to hips. Bennett barely hesitates before he opens his mouth, kissing back, and it's still strange, still more instinctive and reactionary than working with any forethought he uses to choose to act, but what throws him even further off balance is that kissing Haroldes is starting to become familiar. He knows the taste of him; the way he'd rather have his head turned to his right than his left; the way his hand will ghost over Bennett's side as they kiss, like an afterthought.

Bennett feels something digging into his lower back then, realizes they're kissing like this against the freaking  _librarian's desk_ , which is like every cliché teenage rebellion story he's heard, and he gets his hands on Haroldes shoulders to push him away enough to give Bennett room.

"What?" Haroldes says, blinking, pupils already dilated more than normal.

"Library," Bennett mutters, nudging Haroldes further back. He wants to blame him, but he can't really; the second Haroldes moved in he reciprocated.

Haroldes has only moved back as far as Bennett initially pushed him off, standing there watching him with raised eyebrows, planted even when Bennett puts both hands to his chest to try to shove him off. "That's your argument?"

"Yes," Bennett snaps.

Haroldes stares at him for a moment longer, their eyes locked, but eventually he steps back, the tension breaking. "Right. Should have guessed."

Bennett narrows his eyes. "What? That I'm responsible?"

Haroldes gives a shrug, one hand digging into his jeans pocket. "Sure."

Bennett grinds his jaw, but he's not really in the mood to try to pull an explanation out of Haroldes. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm trying to work here."

Haroldes drops into one of the abandoned chairs by the help desk. "So work."

Bennett can feel the tick in his jaw, but he ignores it, turns and starts going through books again, almost vicious when he's stacking and stamping new books and returns.

"You don't have to be so short. We were just having a conversation."

"Pretty sure that doesn't qualify as 'just' a conversation," Bennett responds, thinking of the press of Haroldes' mouth, hot and insistent.

"Not like you were really complaining," Haroldes says, voice infuriatingly casual.

"I don't understand why you're so insistent on picking on me," Bennett bites out, trying to resist the urge to slam the next book down on the table. He's not sure he succeeds, since it seems to come down with more force than the previous ones. "I didn't do anything; we barely know each other."

Haroldes is quiet, and Bennett's a mixture of annoyed and tired with all of this, so he turns around, hands planted on the counter behind him. Haroldes is staring at him, head cocked slightly, eyes intent enough that it makes Bennett cautious and uncomfortable.

"Tell me about yourself, then."

"Are you serious?" Bennett says, incredulity coating his tone. "You want to get to know me so that you're allowed to tease me?"

"Partially," Haroldes replies, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a way that makes Bennett narrow his eyes at him, as far as possible from sharing his amusement. "But I also feel like I should know more about someone I've already kissed multiple times. Doesn't really fit, does it? And I hear so much about what you're like, but never anything about you. I get the feeling you'll never say anything unless I ask."

Bennett stares at him, jaw locked, but he already knows that if he fights this it'll be a losing battle. It's better to save his reserves for later, he supposes. "More to know about your favourite test subject?" Bennett asks, defeated.

"Something like that." Haroldes says. "So, let's play twenty questions. We'll each ask each other twenty questions."

Bennett wants to tell him that playing twenty questions is really about one person thinking of something while the other gets twenty questions to guess, but Bennett doesn't even want to begin to think of how Haroldes will twist that one around.

"Ten."

"Ten? That defeats the purpose of calling it twenty questions."

"Ten each adds up to twenty," Bennett replies, turning back to the stacks of books. He feels like he needs to look away from Haroldes, like his gaze is crawling over his skin, and even turned away he can almost feel Haroldes' eyes grazing over his shoulder blades like the ghost of fingertips, the feeling off-putting enough to cause a shiver down his spine.

"That's not how it works."

"Do you want to ask any questions or not?" Bennett snaps, picking up a book and flipping it in his hands to check the spine.

"Fine," Haroldes says, and Bennett can hear the placating tone, enough to make his teeth clench.

"We'll take turns," Bennett suggests, trying to keep from getting punked by Haroldes, giving up everything to get nothing in return.

Haroldes hums. "Fair. I'll go first. What's your heritage?"

Bennett glances over his shoulder involuntarily, surprised at the question. He'd been expecting something more... personal.

"Half-Japanese and Half-American. My mother's fully Japanese and was born there, but she met my dad here and I was born here. My Dad's family is American pretty far back so there isn't much point in calling him anything but American." Bennett answers, studying Haroldes face, but there's no indication that he wants the information for anything more than simply knowing it.

"Yeah, my family's pretty thoroughly American too, though that's on both sides. I'm pretty much all white. My maternal grandparents are German though." Haroldes says, fiddling with a paper clip a student must have left behind. "Anyways, your turn."

Bennett has to think for a minute. He'd been so focused on what Haroldes was going to ask him, that he didn't realize that this equalled out to an opportunity for him as well. He plans to ask him something about what game he's playing at, if he's just pretending to be a natural genius but really has some tricks, but instead what comes out is "what's it like having a sister?"

Bennett's startled at the words, but Haroldes doesn't seem to notice.

Haroldes snorts. "She's a pain in the ass."

Bennett raises an eyebrow. "Are you going to give any specificity to that?"

"She's  _twelve_. I think that's all the explanation you need."

Bennett blinks.

Seeing the look on his face, Haroldes rolls his eyes. "Twelve is the devil's age, trust me. She used to look up to me a lot, but now she spends all of her time like she's trying to mess with me."

"Trying to, or is?" Bennett says, and Haroldes narrows his eyes at the smirk in Bennett's voice. Bennett can feel the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Shut up. I can take her."

"You keep telling yourself that."

Haroldes holds his middle finger up, and Bennett has to bite his lip to keep from smiling.

"Whatever," Haroldes says. "You got any siblings?"

"Is that your question?"

"Sure," Haroldes says, then holds a hand up. "No wait, I want all of your family."

"You want me to recite my whole family tree?"

Haroldes rolls his eyes. "Quit being a smartass. Immediate family."

Bennett shrugs. "I live with my Mom, and I have a Dad. That's about it."

Haroldes scrutinizes him, and Bennett knows he didn't miss the specific wording of that. "You don't live with your Dad?"

"No," Bennett says, short. "What's your birthday?"

He means it to divert Haroldes, but he hadn't realized how long that had been sitting in the back of his mind regardless.

"June 19th," Haroldes answers immediately, then like switching tracks again, "Why are your parents apart?"

"They got divorced, like most separated parents do," Bennett tells him, and his voice is sarcastic, but he's using it defensively, feels like shrinking back against the desk to create more space between them, create more space between himself and this conversation.

Haroldes seems to know not to push further, though he looks a little like he wants to. "Alright. You ask me."

"Why'd you move?"

Haroldes grins then. "Nothing suspicious, if you think we're a family of fugitives or in witness protection or something. My Dad just got offered a better job around here."

It's so typical that it's almost boring.

Haroldes leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. "Do have a nickname for me?"

Bennett stares at Haroldes for a moment, wondering what the heck is with this boy, before he shakes his head. "No, I don't."

Haroldes frowns, seeming disappointed. "That's so boring. I'm just Austin your head?"

"What, you think of me as Netter?" Bennett says, dry, instead of telling Haroldes that he thinks of him by his last name inside his head.

Austin.

Yeah, that's weird.

Bennett sweeps his hair off of his face, Haroldes' - Austin's? - eyes tracking the movement. Bennett doesn't say anything about it. "Are you really a natural genius?"

Haroldes laughs. "Yeah. I have a mind that's naturally geared for calculations along with being naturally good at memorization. Have you ever heard of mnemonists?"

Bennett shrugs. "I've heard of mnemonics. Learning strategies like acronyms, right?"

Haroldes nodes. "Yeah, mnemonists are naturally good at creating and using those to memorize things. I think that's how I work, though I don't know for sure since all my basis is off of google searching."

Bennett snorts.

Haroldes leans forward. "Okay, when's  _your_  birthday?"

"September 7th," Bennett replies, and it seems regular enough, but Haroldes tilts his head.

"Virgo," he says, "fitting."

Bennett scowls. Of course he has the times for zodiac signs memorized. Bennett doesn't know what Haroldes is, doesn't know what quite what he means by saying Bennett's fits him (thought he suspects it's an insult), but he's not about to waste a question by asking.

Bennett frowns, tapping his fingers on the desk. He doesn't really know what else to ask here. There's a million things he doesn't know about Haroldes, but he's so in the dark here he doesn't even know enough to think of what  _to_  ask. He doesn't know enough to know what he doesn't know.

Bennett takes in a deep breath, hops up to sit on the desk behind him. "Do you have any other insane talents?"

Haroldes snorts. "Not really. I'm a little athletic, and I like it, but it's never hooked me that much to be my thing."

Bennett tilts his head. "Really?"

Haroldes shrugs. "Yeah, played little league as a kid and did pick-up games of any type with the kids from my neighbourhood, and I was always good in gym, but there was never anything I loved enough to commit to long term."

Bennett's a little surprised at that, considering how easily Haroldes jumped into joining Scholastic Club and debate team. He wonders if that's more of a reflection on Haroldes' intelligence and how he places more value on it than athletics, or if it says more about how much Haroldes enjoyed (and probably still does enjoy) winding Bennett up.

"What about you? Any hobbies?" Haroldes asks.

Bennett pulls his feet up to sit cross-legged on the desk. "I play piano."

Haroldes eyebrows raise into his hairline. "For real?"

Bennett smiles a little at that, smug. "Yes, for real. Been doing it since I was 6."

Haroldes lets out a low whistle. "Ten years, damn. You'll have to play for us sometime."

Bennett shrugs. "I'm not promising anything."

"Come on, you must have a piano at your house."

Bennett freezes up. "Yes," he says, doesn't drop the immediate rebuttal he wants to sprout, hates the way the thought of any of his friends in his house makes him uncomfortable. He's never had any of them over, and he likes it that way.

Bennett presses his lips together, thinking. "What's your best class?"

Haroldes snorts, and Bennett narrows his eyes. "Dude, that's such a lame question."

Bennett shrugs a shoulder, tight.

"Whatever," Haroldes says, "I'm the best at math and physics, though I generally like physics more. I can do better or worse depending on subject."

Bennett gives him a sour look.

"What?" Haroldes says, defensive. "I hate probability, okay? That one question where in a game show they ask you to pick a door and after revealing the door that doesn't have a prize you can either stay with your choice or switch? And how the probability of that works? Fucking ridiculous, probability can suck a dick."

Bennett rolls his eyes. "You mean the Monty Hall problem?"

"Yes!" Haroldes says, pointing a finger at him. "I would pick Monty Python over that Monty any time."

Bennett snorts. "Okay, good to know."

Haroldes doesn't look the least bit repentant. "Okay, so, no siblings, no Dad around. Do you have pets at least?"

"No." Bennett says. "And I  _know_  you don't, so that'd be a wasted question." Haroldes grins in response.

Bennett's quiet for a moment. Then, he takes a deep breath and braves a more personal question. He's mostly been afraid to, since he thinks it would probably turn the same type of questions back on him, and Bennett really doesn't like talking about those sort of things. But... he wants to know. "Are you..." He frowns. "Are you actually into guys at all, or is this all just to mess with me?"

Haroldes is quiet for a moment. "Yeah, I am. I mean, generally speaking, I'm more attracted to girls than guys, and most of the time it's not worth it to act on anything with guys."

Bennett isn't willing to ask what made him take the risk with them, then.

"What about you?" Haroldes asks.

Bennett blinks. He should have been expecting that. "I... I don't know." He admits. It's not something he generally gives himself room to think about it. He rarely looks at anyone, considers himself to have more important things to do, but getting involved with Haroldes, at least initially, wasn't exactly something that he actively decided.

Haroldes just hums, accepting that. Bennett's grateful, because while it's a shitty answer, it's still the truth.

"What about Scholastic Club? Debate Team? Did you join those because you wanted to?" Bennett throws out. He phrases it asking if Haroldes wanted to join, but they both know the meaning beneath, if he only did it to aggravate Bennett.

Haroldes drums his fingers on the desk. "Not really, at first. Now that I've got a taste, I like it, but at first I wasn't sure it was my thing. I'm kind of the type that's used to having things come naturally to me, at least academically."

Bennett presses his lips together. He knows that much.

Haroldes' hand stills then. "And, to be honest, I like everyone involved now too. They're my friends." He looks contemplatively at his quieted hands for a moment before he lifts his head, eyes on Bennett again. "You're probably going to get angry at me for this, but I have to ask. You do consider them your friends, right?"

Bennett can feel his face heat, the blood beneath his skin burning. "Yes." He bites out.

Haroldes holds his hands out, placating. "I figured that was the answer, but... you're not exactly  _affectionate_ , Netter. Had to wonder just a little bit if you were just hanging out with them because you needed some people to in order to keep enough favour to say in school council and stuff, and that they were the smartest people in the school by virtue of being in Scholastic Club, so you picked them."

Bennett feels a shot of guilt in his stomach, knows that was one of the main reasons he was friendly to the group of them when he first came to the school, but everything's changed now. They're all his friends, and he can't imagine that there are many things he wouldn't do for them. He expected kids like him, power pushers that were content to work with each other without anything besides a professional relationship, but none of the people in the club turned out to be like that. He knew that from the second he came in, an unreasonably self-assured freshmen, and watched Cooper and Luc (already friends from middle school) get into an argument over whether Napoleon's propaganda was lying or good marketing, complete with pictures drawn on the whiteboard of the horse Napoleon had been portrayed crossing the Alps on and the donkey he actually used.

By the time Alison and Bridget came in a year later, Bennett had a much more open mind about all of them. Maybe he's quiet, but they're his friends, they truly are.

"They're my friends," Bennett says, soft, and Austin takes him at his word.

"I know," he says. "Your turn."

Bennett bites his lip, knows he only has two chances left and has to prioritize. "Did you only make friends with them to get further under my skin?" he asks, acknowledging what the antagonism between them that he'd tiptoed around in the last question.

Austin's quiet for a moment. "A little. I mean, I liked them on their own, but I doubt I would have tried so hard if I wasn't trying to get more of a rise out of you."

Bennett presses his lips together. He figured that much. Austin doesn't strike him as the type to send excessive time doing something he doesn't want to, so while he might hang around them in school a little more to aggravate Bennett, spending time exclusively with other members of the club without Bennett doesn't seem like something he'd do if he didn't like that person. It makes Bennett a little relieved, because even if he suspected, it's nice to have at least that much confirmed.

"Okay," Haroldes says, rubbing his hands together. "Last question."

Then he stops and pauses for what's basically a full minute.

Bennett raises an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Sorry," Haroldes says. "I'm just trying to decide what to ask you as the last question." He hums in thought, then narrows his eyes at Bennett, analysing him. Bennett stares back, deadpan.

"Are you a virgin?" Haroldes asks.

Bennett pales immediately. "What the  _fuck_?"

"Seriously."

"None of your fucking business," he bites.

Haroldes tilts his head. "I don't know. We've already made out multiple times and who knows what comes after that."

Bennett glares.

"Just answer it and get it over with," Haroldes says, rolling his eyes.

Bennett keeps glaring, but manages to let out a clipped, "Yes."

Haroldes eyes practically gleam.

Bennett scowls back.

"Are you going to ask me?" Haroldes goads.

Bennett does't know whether to turn the question back on him or not. Sits there for a moment, hesitant. Uncrosses his legs, dangles them over the edge of his desk, and bites his lip as he thinks it over.

"Did you... Have you...?"

Haroldes raises his eyebrows. "Have I done the nasty?"

Bennett glares even as he can feel his face heat.

"Yeah, I have." Haroldes says, continues on by brushing off Bennett's discomfort, which he's grateful for. "Only with one girlfriend though. Never been with a guy."

Bennett thinks his face goes even redder, slides off the desk as he cuts his eyes away. "Well, great, we got through all the questions."

"You're embarrassed," Haroldes says, sounding delighted.

"Piss off," Bennett mutters, turning back to the stacks of books and subsequently turning his back to Haroldes.

He feels a line of heat press along his back, following the curve of his spine so that he and Haroldes are pressed back to front. Bennett's breath hitches a little. Even if they weren't the only people in the room, Bennett would know it's him. There's this strange sense of awareness that's starting to develop slowly for him, a sort of hypersensitivity to his presence. It scares Bennett a little.

"You don't have to feel stupid at being embarrassed by it," Haroldes says, low and soft, directly into Bennett's ear.

"I don't feel stupid," Bennett grumbles, though he does dimly, feels ridiculous for lighting up red during the conversation while Haroldes' cavalier. It just feels like a reiteration of what they'd admitted in the last two questions; Bennett proving how his Ice Queen nickname applies to being prudish as well contrasted to Haroldes' fire, the way he always seems to be easily charming, the way he seems to do everything and is good at it too. Always steps ahead of Bennett even in the things others have put more perceived value onto than he does.

Haroldes plants a light kiss just behind Bennett's ear. "I'll leave to your work," he says, presumably turning away and collecting his things before he leaves the room, the figure of him disappearing through the library doors out of the corner of Bennett's eye.

It seems strange to consider it, but it almost seems like Haroldes checked out to give him space, considerate of Bennett's feelings and the way he was retreating in embarrassment and frustration at himself over that embarrassment. Maybe Haroldes can read him better than he gave him credit for; maybe he has been able to for a long time but Bennett's underestimated his capacity to use that towards acting beneficially for Bennett instead of using it for further antagonism.

Maybe.

Maybe Austin.

Just maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry if the question part ends up feeling a bit long, it does to me, but I might be over-thinking it. There isn't really any good way to make the pace faster though, since I set it up that they had a specific amount of questions to ask. Oh well, I think generally it was a pretty helpful insight.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension's sparking in the air, held taught, and Bennett's waiting for it to snap, for one of them to attack the other, or more hopefully, back away.
> 
> Instead, he gets hit in the crossfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I don't like this chapter that much, but I've been going over it a bunch and I can't seem to rework to a point where I'm super happy with it without deleting something that affects something I wrote later that I do like. I'm hoping that a bunch of my struggles is just that I'm in the middle of midterms right now so it's making me think all of my writing sucks, when this whole thing is probably fine, so I'm just going to post it since it's pretty much done.
> 
> Also, we've officially hit 50k words!

Nothing much happens during the week up until Wednesday, when all of debate team meets up again.

"Hello, everyone!" Ms. Pursbury calls, sweeping into the room, skirt swirling around her legs. "So, I have a surprise for all of you."

Bennett and Austin exchange a glance, both eyebrows raised.

"Do you think she'll make us pot brownies?" Cooper whispers, just loud enough for the group of them to hear. Luc, as discreetly as possible, sharply elbows Cooper in the ribs.

Ms. Pursbury claps her hands together, beaming. "In a weeks time, we'll be competing against Jefferson High School. Those of you that compete there will be compiled into our official debate team that goes to regionals. Isn't that exciting!"

The way she exclaims it doesn't really make it a question.

Bennett nudges Austin's ankle with his foot, and Austin looks over at him, curious.

"You going to do it?"

Austin tilts his head. "Why wouldn't I?"

Bennett raises an eyebrow in his direction, dry. "I wonder why."

Austin snorts, leaning back on the legs of his chair. "Yeah, yeah, fair. Yes, I did have plans to  _participate_ , like a good example of an exemplary student." He grins sunnily at Bennett. Bennett flicks him in the forehead.

"I'm assuming you're not even to consider not doing it?" Luc asks, leaning around Bennett so that he can cut in.

Bennett turns to look at him over his shoulder. "What do you think?"

Luc snorts and waves a hand. "Yeah, true," he concedes, falling back into his seat.

Bennett smiles a little to himself, maybe a little wryly, amused more at the fact that these are his friends than finding any humour in the situation itself. He turns his body back to the front again, opening the conversation again to the four of them, letting out a little huff as he rests back in his seat again.

"So," Austin says, throwing an arm over Bennett's shoulder, "want to be partners?"

Bennett shrugs the arm off. "We'll see," he says, even if all he's remembering is the synchronization they had we they teamed up for the last debate, a connectivity previously unparalleled.

* * *

 

"Guess what we get to do next week!" Austin says immediately at the end of their lunch meeting, launching himself onto Jasmine's back, all limbs. She throws him a glare fierce enough to stop the earth from spinning, but he doesn't seem to notice.

Bennett trails behind, watching and wondering what he did to get himself involved with these people.

"What?" Jasmine says, and despite the up-turn in her voice at the end that indicates it's a question, she somehow manages to say it more like a threat.

"We get to go out-talk people at another school!" Austin says, fake cheer.

Luc shoves him lightly in the shoulder. "Excuse you, this is debate team. We out-argue them in pointless, roundabout ways with highly overcomplicated language."

Cooper snorts.

"Where are you going?" Bridget asks, curious.

"Jefferson," Bennett says, nudging enough people aside to get through the calamity and to his locker bank.

"I don't know about their debate team, but their mathletes team is fucking weak," Jasmine says, grabbing Austin's arm and twisting it up behind his back instead of just shrugging it off.

"Ow!" Austin cries.

"Surrender," Jasmine tells him, not a hint of sympathy in her voice.

"Neve- ack!"

Jasmine pulls his arm further up his back. Hard.

"Who wants to bet whether Jazz will actually break his arm?" Peter offers, bland.

"Five bucks says she just dislocates his shoulder," Alison tells him.

"Ten that she breaks something."

Bennett pointedly ignores the two of them confirming that the other has enough money on them to back up the bet.

Jasmine, rolling her eyes, lets go of Austin. Peter and Alison both whine in disappointment.

"You're all kindergarteners," Bennett mutters under his breath.

Austin whirls on him, and the crooked tilt to his mouth makes Bennett exasperated at his comment before it's even left his mouth. "Does that make you a cradle robber?"

Bennett stomps on his foot.

Austin hunches over, huffing out a breath, which is satisfying enough for Bennett. "Jesus," he wheezes, "I don't know how you earned the nickname Ice Queen. You have one hell of a temper."

Bennett rolls his eyes, pulling out his books. "No, you're just  _that_  irritating."

Austin straightens up then, and he tries to keep a flat expression, but Bennett can see the ticks of lingering pain and amusement. "Just for you, darling."

Bennett's foot kicks out again, and Austin leaps a good foot back. Bennett can't keep the smug smile from spreading on his face. "Tell me how that's working for you," he says, before he turns and walks off to his first class of the afternoon.

* * *

 

"Later," Austin says to them all when the day ends, swinging his bag up over his shoulder and sauntering off with a wave over his shoulder. A chorus of goodbyes follow him, but then instead of everyone carrying on like usual, Peter stills slightly in an off way.

Bennett, noticing, looks over and raises an eyebrow in question.

Peter bites his lips, unsure, and then starts with, "Jazz."

Jasmine looks up at Peter, eyebrows lifted in an expectant look of "Well, get on with it."

Peter takes a deep breath, swinging himself out with a hand on his locker door so he's facing Jasmine more fully. "Do you still like Austin?"

Jasmine barks out a laugh. "Wow, are we talking like teeny boppers now? Do I like him or like- _like_  him?"

Peter scowls. "Jazz, you know what I meant. The second you saw him you were talking about what a hot piece of ass he was."

Jasmine looks amused. "I'm not sure I used those words. Is there something you want to tell us, Peter?"

Peter looks murderous, and Jasmine looks startled at the suddenly thunderous mood. "What, that it's obvious you want to fuck him?"

Jasmine's face clouds over. "Excuse me? How the  _fuck_  is that any of your business? How do you get to judge me? It is my life, and other people consenting, I will do what I want with whom I want and you have shit right to police me over it."

Peter's mouth twists. "You know he wouldn't date you, right?"

Jasmine snorts, but it's a mean sound more than an amused one. "I'm well aware. I wouldn't want to date him either. If something happened between us it would just be for fun, but I can pretty much guarantee you that's never going to happen from either of our ends."

Peter tilts his head. "What do you mean?"

Jasmine rolls her eyes. "Like I'm about to tell the dick that just tried to shame me for expressing my sexuality. I don't know what you expect. I'm going to do what I want, and the amount I care about your opinion on it is fuck all."

Peter purses his lips. "Fine, whatever."

Jasmine bares her teeth. "You don't get to whine and play the victim just because you're jealous, Peter."

The entire group collectively holds their breath, except for Bennett, who lies his head against is locker and sighs.

He knew Jasmine knew. He just didn't think she'd say it outright.

"You've got a crush on me, fine, but that doesn't mean I need to modify my own behaviour to set you at ease for something that's not my fault. Especially when you haven't said anything to me about it and then just get moody at me over things I shouldn't know the reasoning behind."

Peter's teeth are gritted. "But you do."

Jasmine's gaze doesn't waver. "Yes, I do. But you never said anything, and I didn't want anything out of it, and I wanted to stay your friend so I left it. Thought if you really wanted to say it you'd do so when you were ready, but apparently you just antagonize me whenever I look twice at a guy that's not you. Get over yourself."

Peter looks angry, and Bennett steps in then, planting both hands on his chest. Peter stills, even if his eyes are still locked over Bennett's shoulder at Jasmine, even if Bennett's shorter than either of them.

"Look, neither of you was very good at handling something you didn't want to hear, but don't make it worse. You like her, but you're friends first. Keep your head Peter; give yourself time to calm down and think it over and if you still need to have a conversation, do it when you can both be rational." Bennett keeps his voice calm, trying to soothe both their tempers, but mostly Peter, who can get explosive at the best of times. Jasmine can get angry enough in her own right, but hers has always been a lot more reactionary than Peter's offensive anger.

Peter looks at Bennett then. "Back off, Bennett."

"No," Bennett says, firm.

Tension's sparking in the air, held taught, and Bennett's waiting for it to snap, for one of them to attack the other, or more hopefully, back away.

Instead, he gets hit in the crossfire.

"Seriously, Ben," Peter snaps, "Fuck off. Nobody likes it when you butt in. No one asked you step in and play mother or teacher or whatever the fuck you think you are. Get off your high horse and deal with the fact you're twice as fucked up as the rest of us."

Bennett flinches back, dropping his hands from where he'd been pressing Peter away. He nearly collides with Jasmine, and she tries to grab his arm, probably to steady him, but as soon as her hand brushes him he jerks away.

"Ben -" she says.

Bennett shakes his head. "Don't." He says, voice whip sharp. He grabs his bag and walks away as quickly as he can, uncaring if he left something behind.

* * *

 

Austin calls him the next day.

It's odd, Bennett expects to feel some sort of hesitance or apprehension between seeing the caller ID and picking up the phone, but he doesn't, just answers with a bland, "Hello?"

"Peter's a dick," is the first thing Austin says to him.

Bennett rolls his eyes to himself. "Who told you?"

"Jazz," Austin says, which is who Bennett thought it probably was. "He's a dick."

"I know," Bennett says, hoping up onto the kitchen counter. He's not sure why he does it; his homework is still spread out across the rest of the space, only halfway done.

"That's it?" Austin's voice is incredulous. "Just ' _I know_ '." His raises his voice to mock Bennett.

Bennett huffs into the line. "Look, he's just... He's being Peter."

"That's not an excuse."

"I know that too." Bennett sighs as he tilts his head back to study the ceiling.

"Then explain to me why you sound so calm about this whole thing."

Bennett's quiet for a beat. "Peter is a fucking dick, and I'm not happy with him, but there's nothing I can do from here. And I get the feeling Jasmine's probably going to beat him up."

Austin snorts. "The last part I can give you."

Bennett leans forward, free arm braced across his knees. "So, even though you must have heard I walked off immediately after this happened even though Jasmine tried to catch me, you still decided to call me?"

Austin's silent.

A small laugh escapes out of Bennett's throat before he can catch it. "You're ridiculous," he says, but somehow it comes out fond.

"You're okay?" Austin says instead, voice uncharacteristically soft. Warmth blooms from Bennett's chest, winding up into his cheeks and curling his toes. It's stupid. It's stupid and uncalled for and unwelcome.

"I'm good," Bennett tells him, tucking some of his hair behind his ears.

"Just good?" Austin teases. "C'mon, you're talking to me here; you should be great."

Bennett snorts. "Talking to you is the reason I'm good instead of great."

Austin makes a wounded noise on the other side of the line, and Bennett smiles despite himself. "Okay, nice conversation."

Austin doesn't seem quite as done. "That's it?"

"What, did you want to regale me with all the ways your sister's getting the better of you?" Bennett feigns looking at his nails with airiness. He's not sure why he does it since no one's watching.

Austin huffs in annoyance. "She's not getting the better of me."

"Whatever you say."

Austin huffs again. "You're lucky I like you."

Bennett's too surprised to come back with a sarcastic response. "You do?" he says, blinking, and immediately wishes that hadn't come out of his mouth and that he could slam his head into the counter top.

"Against all logic, yes, I do," Austin tells him, sincere, and a shiver rakes its way down Bennett's spine.

"Oh."

Austin laughs down the line, but it isn't mocking, it's warm and fills Bennett nearly to bursting. "What? You've got a weird backwards charm about you."

"I'm so flattered," Bennett says, flat. Austin just laughs again. Bennett sort of like the sound, likes that he can pull it from him.

"You should be, I'm an amazing person. Far out of your league." He says, making Bennett roll his eyes. Then, completely without a segue, "What are you wearing?"

"What?" Bennett asks, baffled.

"Come on, isn't that the standard line in those phone hotlines?"

"I'm - I just -" Bennett says, too exasperated to find the words to express it, pinching his nose between two fingers. "Christ."

"Wow, I have you beyond words."

"That's one descriptor," Bennett says flatly.

"Awww, come on darling, can't you be a little risqué?"

"Are you on your home phone?" Bennett asks suddenly, realizing the caller ID had clearly showed a William Haroldes.

"Yeah, so?"

"Yeah, try to talk me up on the family phone, fucking brilliant."

Austin snorts a little. "I'm alone in my room, you know. Figured that talking to you about possibly sensitive subjects in front of my mom would just cause overdone motherly concern." Which is... surprisingly considerate of him.

"What, you're just stretched out on your bed trying to talk me up now that the emotional crisis has passed?" Bennett asks sarcastic.

"I'm sitting at my desk chair, actually, but I could do that if you wanted," Austin says, and his voice is deeper and throaty. Bennett responds to it immediately, like Austin's his flip switch, hips driving off the counter.

Austin must hear the hitch in his breath. "You want that?" he asks, dark and full of promise.

"Um, I, ah, have to go," Bennett says, and hangs up the phone without waiting for Austin's goodbye. Immediately after he buries his face in his hands, mortified, face burning, and wondering how he's tactless enough to drop the phone and be even more obvious.

* * *

 

Most of the group is watching Bennett carefully when he approaches them the next morning. Bennett looks directly at Jasmine.

"So, how much do I have to pay you to keep you from beating up Peter?" he asks.

Alison snorts out a laugh, but Jasmine doesn't miss a beat, just holds her hand out and declares, "Two million dollars."

Bennett tilts his head. "Will you settle for five?"

Jasmine heaves a put-upon sigh. "Fine," she concedes, and actually fishes in Bennett's front pocket for the money he keeps just in case.

"Hey!" He swats at her, but she just dances out of range with a grin.

"Netter," Bennett hears right before an arm drops across his shoulders, a heavy draping weight.

Bennett looks over his shoulder at Austin with a scowl. "G'off."

Austin grins, sunny. "No."

Bennett rolls his eyes, but leaves it. "I'm going to give you advance warning to stay away from Jasmine today. She seems to be in a thieving mood."

Jasmine waves Bennett's bill from where it's caught between her fingers with a grin.

Bennett isn't expecting it when Austin's arm suddenly drops away, the newly abandoned space left cold, and he looks in surprise at Austin to watch him reach over Bennett's shoulder and catch the money back with nimble fingers.

"You were saying?" Austin says, grinning as he pulls away from Jasmine's grabbing hands, using Bennett as a human shield. He folds it, and Bennett resigns himself to watching it swap hands until lunch when someone inevitably spends it, but then he reaches down and slips it into Bennett's back pocket. Bennett jumps instinctively, and Austin chuckles, low.

"A little warning would be nice," Bennett tells him, glowering. Austin's grin widens.

"Yes, dear," he says, obviously being a shit, and Bennett whacks him in the stomach.

"You're in a surprisingly good mood," Alison says, testing the waters, and Luc shoots her a warning glare.

Austin's arm falls across Bennett's shoulders again. "I called him and cheered him up."

Bennett rolls his eyes. "Sure, that's what happened."

"Totally is, don't front."

"Okay then," Bennett says, reaching back to pat Austin's chest with the back of his hand. "I'm going to class."

"Great!" Austin's voice comes from over his shoulder.

Bennett looks up at the ceiling, letting out a sigh. "I'll see you guys at lunch. Preferable sometime before that, to preserve my sanity from this one."

"You like me," Austin says.

Bennett doesn't say anything, just slips out from under Austin's arm, collects his books, and shepherds them both off to class.

* * *

 

Things are fine. Peter doesn't show up to their group at lunch, and Jasmine looks smugly satisfied. And it's fine. It's fine.

It's going okay until the day ends, and they're all supposed to head towards Scholastic Club. Bennett's hesitant, stalling by his locker, and it must be noticeable, because Bridget's frowning at him in concern.

Austin shows up then, and his presence boosts them all somehow. Something's settled in Bennett, this weird calming of the tension he used to feel at even the sight of Austin. There's still some of the bite there between them, but it's almost.. playful. He feels at ease.

They walk into the classroom, Bennett scowling over his shoulder at Austin, partially because he's nudging up into his space, and partially so he doesn't have to see Peter just yet.

"Peter," Austin says as soon as they're all the way inside, and Bennett freezes, but Austin bumps up against his back, one hand warm on his lower back, and somehow that's comforting. Bennett still can't look either of them in the eye.

"What?" Peter says, voice carrying. Bennett closes his eyes.

"You're one of my closest friends, and I can understand you losing your head, but if you pull that kind of shit again it's not going to fly with me, okay?"

Bennett looks up at Austin in shock, but Austin's eyes are locked firmly on where Peter must be seated across the room. His blue eyes are blazing; Bennett's stomach lurches.

"Yeah," Peter responds, soft, and when Bennett glances over at him he ducks his eyes. "I really am sorry."

Bennett's quiet for a moment. "I am not going to take this kind of attitude and questioning of my leadership at any sort of competition, are we clear? You  _listen_  to me."

Peter looks up, hesitant smile on his lips. "Funny that you specify that. 'Listen to me when we're in a club setting.'"

Bennett's eyes don't waver. "I respect you the most there."

Peter flinches, obviously catching the underlying insult.

Bennett's hurt. It's not the worst he's felt, lying under the cover with the sheets gripped in his fists, listening to the quiet words of his parents escalating, louder and louder,  _I have a career to look out for, he's_ your _son_.

It's not the worst, but it hurts. And Peter stewed for days before Bennett confronted him and took the step to smooth things over, and that was just one snap, cursing at a nickname he hates. Peter's was much, much deeper and more sharply aimed.

He likes Peter. Peter is his friend, and has been for a long time. But if he wants to put everything back to the way it was, he's going to have to step up, because Bennett's fucking sick of the way he goes off at someone and then goes off and sulks over it, playing the coward and the victim. Their friendship isn't all broken, but there's cracks, and if Peter wants to fix it then he can come to Bennett.

Jasmine struts in at that moment, stops dead at the sight of them, glancing between them, and then says, "Wait, what the fuck, are we all buddy-buddy again?"

"I'm getting the feeling that depends on whether Peter's willing to man-up enough to actually give a follow up with his actions instead of just cowering until things have blown over," Austin tells her, hopping up to sit on one of the desks. Bennett prods him in the side until he slides off again.

"Good." Jasmine smiles with satisfaction. "Do I get an apology too?"

Peter scowls.

"He didn't even look Ben in the eye when he gave him one, so I wouldn't count on it," Austin responds.

"We're both still standing  _right here_ ," Bennett grouses, prodding Austin in the side again so he'll actually  _sit down_.

Austin just shrugs, unrepentant, and collapses into the chair behind him, limbs thrown all over the place. Bennett thinks that he's lucky it wasn't tucked under the desk.

Everyone else trails in snatches of one or two, looking mostly curious at the relatively calm atmosphere, and Jasmine gleefully tells all them that "Peter apologized, but he's shit at following through, so while we're all friendly he's not completely off the hook."

Bennett feels like the whole roomful of them could use lessons in tact.

Mr. Oaken wanders in last, and he looks a little perplexed over the unusually quieted room, but he seems to deign it best to ignore it, moving on with a smile.

"So, Ms. Pursbury's told me that the first debate competition is next week, right?"

There's a unified "yes" from somewhere behind Bennett that can only be Luc and Cooper.

"Great, well, I don't want to leave anyone out, but how do you all want to practice some debates? Work our brains a bit."

Everyone agrees, more or less. (Jasmine asks to be paired against Peter, smiling sunnily, and Mr. Oaken, looking a bit confused, lets her.)

Luc and Cooper obviously refuse to be separated, latching onto each other like limpets, because Bennett might not actually be surprised if there was a physical limitation on how far they could be separated. Bennett rolls his eyes and takes Bridget, because she's seriously way too nice to be any good at debates, stutters her way through, and so he while he doesn't pity her because she  _is_  smart, she doesn't have the slightest hint of bite in her. Alison ends up lumped with Peter, Austin and Jasmine teaming up, and Bennett feels a sense of impending doom.

It's well justified.

Mr. Oaken decides to just give them a topic and let them run with it until they run out of time or arguments. In the end, the topic for this one doesn't matter as much, because one side already seems to be out for blood.

Austin and Jasmine, even if they weren't already both somewhere in the rage of miffed at their opponent, are intelligent with strong personalities, and word themselves so concisely that they make a terrifying tag team. Peter looks discomfited; Alison's just kind of sitting there and watching the exchange like she's forgotten she's supposed to be a participant instead of a spectator.

Austin catches his eye at one point after he's spoken, and Bennett makes a motion with his hand pushing towards the floor, asking him to tone it down. Austin does, at least minimally, and maybe Bennett's the only one to notice, but he appreciates it.

Bennett knows it's not even worth it to try with Jasmine. He doesn't really want to with her, not only because it would be futile, but because she was getting just as attacked by Peter as he was, and just because she's good at giving back as good as she gets doesn't mean she's unaffected.

They finish, Peter looking pale, and Mr. Oaken looking a little scared of his two students. "Okay, Bennett and Bridget, Luc and Cooper, go."

There isn't much to say on their debate. Luc and Cooper are so used to working with each other that they're like a well-oiled machine; it's almost eerie to watch them, even when he's arguing against them, because they seem to be able to read each other's minds and pick up on strings of ideas the other left for them. Bennett might stand a chance with an excellent partner, but Bridget's shy and even more intimidated by the two of them firing points at them so steadily you'd think they'd been researching for weeks instead of having the topic spring on them suddenly. And Bennett doesn't blame her, this is only for fun, but the winner's clear from about the first minute in.

Bennett will admit it, he's a little intimidated by them too.

"Is there a clause for surrendering?" Bennett asks, cutting into the space between Cooper ending his argument and Luc opening his mouth to start the next. Bennett's leaning on the table, exhausted, and Bridget looks a little spooked.

Mr. Oaken's lips quirk. "I think I can concede that."

"Netter, what did we talk about giving up?" Austin says, mock serious. Bennett throws him a flat look.

Alison chimes in, "No, I'm a little shocked too. Are you really Ben? Can we get like an x-ray or something to check for alien parasites?"

Bennett switches his look over to her, and Bridget makes a softly distressed sound at her girlfriend's comment.

"We're just that tough," Cooper says, brushing off his shoulder and looking smug, which is absolutely ridiculous because he's wearing a florescent green and orange striped shirt. He looks more like candy than a person.

"Great, well we all know that this competition will have at least one group from our school qualifying after regionals," Austin says, and he sounds sort of dryly mocking, but Luc and Cooper beam anyway.

"I am so glad I'm not on the debate team," Bridget says softly from next to Bennett, and it's probably meant to be said to herself, but Bennett hears it regardless and has to fight a smile.

"We should probably wrap about now, actually," Mr. Oaken comments, watching the clock. He looks out over at the group of them. "Unless any of you had anything else?"

Austin looks directly at Peter, expression intense, but Peter doesn't look at him, and small smatterings of 'no's fill the room. He obviously doesn't have any intention to apologize to the whole group of them, and Austin looks unimpressed, but Bennett lets it go. The real apology should be going to Jasmine, and he hasn't gotten to that yet, which is where Bennett's real problem lies. He could care less whether or not Peter makes a grand gesture to them all, what matters is the sincerity behind it.

"Alright," Mr. Oaken concludes after no one pipes up, clapping his hands together. "We can all clear out, and I'll see you all next Thursday. I wish our boys on the debate team the best of luck."

That officially signals an end, and everyone gets up, shuffling and chattering, and Bennett used to hate this, the way the purpose of the club shut down, turning them back into kids, the sound of people everywhere invading the quiet, controlled space. It calms him now, hearing his friends around him, the quiet conversation, the presence of them permeating the space but not overwhelming it. Bennett feels surrounded by the people that matter to him, and it's a good feeling.

"Do you want a ride home?" Austin asks from where he's sitting next to Bennett, throwing his arm over the back of Bennett chair. (Which is fucking annoying, why does he keep doing that? Is he just trying to remind Bennett that he's taller? Because he firmly got the memo, thanks.)

Bennett blinks at him, unable to suss out if Austin's messing with him or actually genuine.

"Well?" Austin says, raising his eyebrows, and he must really mean it, or he probably would have laughed at Bennett's assumption by now, or at least smirked a bit.

"I can take the bus," Bennett answers, stilted. "I've been in the club long enough that I know the schedule."

"I know you  _can_ ," Austin says, "but would you rather get a ride? It's not that far out of the way."

Bennett knows for a fact that he lives in the opposite direction from the school that Austin does. He doesn't know what that means.

"Sure," Bennett mutters. He doesn't know what else to say - can't figure out whether he should say yes or no without knowing why Austin's asking, can't figure out how he would even say no when he's not sure if there's more being asked than what's on the surface.

"Cool," Austin says, getting up and swinging his bag off the back of his chair and up onto his shoulder. Bennett's a little bewildered at the casualness of it all. Could that really be it?

Bennett stands slowly, grabbing his own bag and watching Austin with a little hesitance.

A spark of mischief lights in Austin's eyes. "If you really don't want to go that badly, you could have, you know, said no like a normal person."

Bennett narrows his eyes, but Austin just grins wider, seemingly delighted by this.

"Let's just go," Bennett grumbles, pushing at Austin's side to get him out of the aisle. Austin, because he is incapable of acting like a normal person, walks backwards so that he's facing backwards as he continues to grin like a maniac.

"Ben?" Bennett hears Alison say, carrying over the room, confusion evident.

"Yes?" he grits out. He doesn't turn to face her, which may be bad manners, but he's focused on getting Austin to actually /walk out of the fucking row/.

"Everything okay?"

"Just peachy," he replies, and gives Austin one final shove out of the row. He slips passed him into freedom.

"Okay," Alison drags the word out, sounding unsure.

"I offered to drive him home. It seems to have put him in a mood," Austin tells her, seeming far too cheery about it.

"You  _always_  put me in a mood," Bennett says.

Austin raises an eyebrow. "Yes, I'm sure I do. Competitive ones, annoyed ones, lustful ones -"

He breaks off when Bennett hits him in the stomach. He gets the slightly exasperated feeling that this is going to turn into a trend.

"I'm going to take the bus," Bennett says, defeated.

Austin blinks down at him. "Dude."

"No, I need  _quiet_  time," Bennett insists.

Austin's nose scrunches up. It looks stupid on him. It does; it does not look adorable, because that is not a thing that Austin Haroldes is. Ever.

Especially to Bennett.

"If you say so," Austin concedes, and Bennett mentally gives a sigh of relief, because he's not sure he could stand up to Austin's pestering when he's already tired, and the idea of being trapped in a car with him even for the short ride to his own house isn't something that appeals to him at the moment. Besides, Austin might insist on coming in, and that's worse, even if Bennett can't imagine anything he could say to actually get Bennett to agree to it.

"Bye," Bennett says to them all.

"Later," Alison tells him, putting an arm around her girlfriend's waist. Bridget smiles softly and gives a small wave.

"See you tomorrow," Austin says, a little of that old crooked smile pulling at his mouth, and Bennett turns and walks away as quickly as he can.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Austin grabs Bennett during their free time before the debate, everyone wandering around the unfamiliar school.
> 
> "What are you doing?" Bennett asks, bewildered, as Austin tows him by the wrist in an unknown direction.
> 
> "Looking for something," Austin says, scanning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter contains explicit content between consenting minors. For this reason I'm bumping the rating up to mature.  
> This chapter finished a lot faster because I'd written the longest scene in advance, so enjoy!

Bennett's mother is gone most of the weekend. His Dad calls on Sunday for what's supposed to be his monthly phone call, but there's no specific schedule to it, and his Dad's not particularly strict about it. Bennett's pretty sure the last time he called was three months ago.

"Hey kiddo," his Dad says as Bennett listens, half idle, working on math homework at the same time, "how've you been?"

"Fine," Bennett answers, twirling his pencil between his fingers.

"Great. Did I tell you about that deal I was making with the Chicago branch? It went through and I should be flying down in about three weeks."

"That's great," Bennett says, mentally tacking on at least another two weeks onto the next date his Dad's supposed to call again.

"Anything with you?"

"Not really," Bennett tells him, "I have a debate coming up."

"Ah, we'll I'm sure you'll do fine."

They talk about nothing for a while, before his dad tells him he has a meeting proposal he should probably set about preparing for, and they trade goodbyes. When Bennett hangs up the phone, he stares at the number for a while, eight minutes and thirty two seconds blinking up into his face, before he sets it back in its cradle.

(Bennett's aware that he has a lot on his plate, and that it's hard to keep track of all of it. What bites is that his dad doesn't seem to even be trying to.)

* * *

 

Monday comes, and Peter's a little quiet and sullen when Bennett comes up to their locker bank, but he's not angry, which is good, and the fact that he's there at all is probably the best sign. Avoidance seems to be one of his main modes of operation.

Luc and Cooper seem to be in the middle of some sort of discussion on the importance and symbolism of the Queen's corgis in the English royal family.

Bennett looks over at Bridget with a little bemusement.

She shrugs. "Somebody brought up Air Bud and they just ran with it," she says, which sounds like them and doesn't surprise Bennett at this point, though he wishes that it could.

"Sometimes I'm not sure that they're really teenage boys," Alison adds, dry.

Luc whirls around and points a finger in her direction. "Shut up, the Shunzhi Emperor took the throne when was  _twelve_."

Alison furrows her brows. "Bless you?"

Jasmine rolls her eyes. "It's Chinese, dumbass."

"Luc, your memory is fucking creepy."

Luc salutes her, while Cooper shrugs. "I don't know man, what about Tutankhamen? Or Amenhotep the first?"

Alison narrows hers eyes again, and then turns to Jasmine. Jasmine raises her hands in front of her. "I have no idea."

"Egyptian, guys, Egyptian," Cooper says, looking pained. Luc's echoing the look.

"Nerds," Alison coughs into her hand.

"You are  _literally_  in the nerd club."

"Yeah, but with chemistry, you can like, explode stuff. At least there's cool potential."

"I'm sorry, talk to me when you have further knowledge about chemical warfare," Luc says, easily swapping with Cooper to reply to her.

"Is everything about history to you?"

Luc pauses, he and Cooper exchanging a look before turning to Alison and replying in unison, "Yes."

Alison runs both hands down her face.

Bridget laughs lightly. "It's not even worth fighting with them, come on."

"Yeah, you're working against the wonder twins here," Jasmine adds, planting a hand on her hip.

Suddenly René's voice comes carrying down the hallway. "I'm hoping the wonder twins is some sort of mention to my boobs, because yes, they are most definitely a wonder."

Luc rolls his eyes, while Cooper's expression turns sour. "Save it for Giles, please," Luc tells her.

"And leave you feeling like you're not included? Luc, I could  _never_."

Luc levels her with an unimpressed look.

"You're kind of wasting the commentary here," Jasmine drawls, and René blinks for a moment before her mouth curls into a smirk.

Luc and Cooper look confused, Bridget and Alison seem to have checked out of the conversation to converse quietly on the side by themselves, (Bennett suspects Alison pulled Bridget away to preserve her from embarrassment, considering what René came in with.) which leaves Bennett as the sole other person that understands what the girls think of as their clever inside joke.

Austin comes up then, which Bennett doesn't know because he says hello like a normal person, but because he throws an arm around Bennett's shoulders. Again. "Why are René and Jazz smiling like gangster girls from the 20s that just completed a successful heist?"

"No idea," Luc answers, bewildered.

Austin turns and raises an eyebrow in Bennett's direction.

Bennett rolls his eyes, but he's a little flattered that Austin thinks he would get it even when Luc didn't, so when everyone turns their attention away he turns his head to Austin, tilted up to get his mouth at Austin's ear. He keeps his eyes on the the others to monitor that they're not listening in, and quietly tells him, "René overheard a comment about the wonder twins, asked if they were her breasts, and Jasmine told her that she was wasting her time saying so."

Austin snorts out loudly, which continues on into laughter, and everyone glances over in surprise to watch Austin bury his face in Bennett's shoulder. Bennett can feel the way he's shaking from here, the motion running through him. "Oh my god," he says, muffled, but still obviously filled with mirth.

"What?" Alison says, blinking. Everyone looks curious, except Peter, who still looks sullen.

"Bennett just explained, nevermind," Austin says, lifting his head.

Luc turns to him, face surprised and a little offended. "You got it and didn't tell us?"

Bennett doesn't know how to explain to him that Bridget and Alison are too wrapped in each other to check René out, even if she wasn't straight and there their friend which means Alison would try to avoid it just to be polite. (Bridget's too shy to do so either way.) He doesn't know how to tell him that he and Cooper are basically the same way, and that they're also completely oblivious to the fact that they're a little off kilter from being zeros on the Kinsey scale.

"You wouldn't find it as funny," Austin tells him, patting him on the shoulder like a consolation prize.

Luc scowls, and Cooper his mouth to say something, neither looking particularly placated, but Giles walks up then, barely blinking at the looks on the boys faces before saying, "Did they get into an argument about the War of 1812 again?"

"It was American against Britain!" Cooper shouts.

" _Canada_  kicked America's ass, dick nugget," Luc snaps back.

They quickly devolve into an argument from there, both of them talking over each other until they're undecipherable.

"Wow," Austin says, slow, and Bennett can't see his face since he's mostly behind him, but he can imagine the expression that fits his voice, both eyebrows making a slow rise up his face.

René turns to her boyfriend. "Let's escape before they turn on unsuspecting bystanders and demand them to take sides."

Giles mouth quirks slightly, but he follows René without comment none the less.

"Everyone clear out before they turn," Alison says, trying to usher Bridget towards her open locker to grab her books, but Bridget's frowning in disapproval of her girlfriend's behaviour.

"They're teenage boys, not werewolves," Peter mutters under his breath.

Alison hears him, but she doesn't look miffed. She fixes him with a straight faced look and says, mock grave, "Not yet."

Austin snorts. He leans down and speaks into Bennett's ear, "I think we should clear out before the rest of these guys make us nuts too."

Bennett tries not to react to Austin's voice, pitched low and smooth, his hot breath washing over Bennett's skin as he speaks. He thinks maybe the most minute tremble runs a course down his body, and hopes Austin doesn't notice, especially since his voice is steady when he replies, "Smart plan."

* * *

 

On Wednesday they head out to Jefferson, get the day off in a way that's practically useless since both teams are small and the debate doesn't even start until halfway through the day, but Ms. Pursbury has always been an advocate of "adjusting to the spiritual energy" of an environment, so they pile onto the bus so they can spend a couple empty hours at the other school before the debate. There's not enough of them to actually fill the bus, René immediately heading towards the back of the bus and claiming a seat to herself, sitting sideways across it so no one could sit beside her even if they watned to, sliding her sunglasses onto her nose and reclining to sleep the trip away.

Giles lets her be, settling a couple rows ahead of her, pressed against the window ad sticking a book in his nose. Luc and Cooper sit somewhere around the middle, the two pressed side to side in the same seat despite that there are plenty of empty seats, apparently unwilling to even get far away enough to take their own seats across the row.

The couple others Bennett's vaguely familiar with settle in various places among the bus, Cameron closer to the front and curled into her own seat, Lucina settling a pair of headphones over her ears and blaring the beginning of her travel mix that Bennett knows from experience is a mixture of rap and pop, mostly featuring Eminem and One Direction.

Bennett sits closer to the front than any of the other kids, only a couple rows back, second only to the driver and Ms. Pursbury. He expects Austin to head back, sit somewhere closer to the back where all the kids fight for on full buses, so they can feel all the jumps on the road. Instead, Austin plants a hand on the back of Bennett's seat, swinging to sit in the one behind him.

Bennett blinks at him, and Austin raises an eyebrow, hand still planted on the back of Bennett's seat. "Dude, what's with the look?"

Bennett turns away, scrunching himself up against the window. "Nothing."

Austin hums. "I'm not so sure," he says, and then there's a hand on Bennett's shoulder, turning him, Bennett acquiescent more out of surprise than willingness. "Hi," he says, voice low, a little amused.

Bennett presses his lips together. "Quit acting like an idiot."

Austin's mouth splits a into a smile. "You're hurting my feelings."

"And yet you're smiling," Bennett says flatly.

Austin smiles a little wider, and pulls his lips into his mouth to hide it, the smile still playing a little at the edges, closed-mouthed.

Ms. Pursbury gets up then, and Austin looks up then, letting go of Bennett and falling into his own seat again. "Let's move out!" she cries, clapping her hands together and beaming. Bennett bets she was expecting some sort of enthusiastic response, but she doesn't seem to be bothered very much when there isn't any, still smiling when she floats to sit behind the driver.

Bennett settles in for the drive, pulls out an old and worn paperback of his own, the ride mostly quiet except for the muffled sound of Lucina's music drifting through the bus and the occasional jostle of Austin's feet against when his when he stretches them under Bennett's seat.

* * *

 

They get set up in an empty classroom, spare desks stacked against the walls with a couple extra ones scattered in the space. It's a little musky in there, so most of them end up dumping their bags and various other items before going off to explore.

Austin grabs Bennett during their free time before the debate, everyone wandering around the unfamiliar school.

"What are you doing?" Bennett asks, bewildered, as Austin tows him by the wrist in an unknown direction.

"Looking for something," Austin says, scanning. "Ah, there it is!"

He speeds up a little, Bennett stumbling behind, and stops in front of... a supply closet.

"That's anti-climatic," Bennett grouses, "What were you actually looking for?"

"This  _is_  what I was looking for," Austin tells him, opening the door. "Get in."

"What -" Bennett starts, confused and distressed, but Austin just grabs him again and pulls him into the closet before closing the door behind them.

"There, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" Austin says, looking pleased, from what Bennett can tell. Austin reaches up and with a click a small, bare bulb lights up above their heads, and yeah, he's definitely pleased with himself.

"What is it with you pushing me in closets?" Bennett returns, exasperated. He's reminded of the time they were pressed into the book closet at the back of the Scholastic Club room, although at least they have more space this time.

"C'mon, can't be that bad, since you're not actually out of the closet yet," Austin smirks at his own comment. Bennett kicks him in the shin.

"Seriously, what did you bring me in  _here_  for?" Bennett says to Austin's slightly crouched over form, the boy rubbing where Bennett had aimed just below his knee.

"I had an idea."

Bennett raises a sceptical eyebrow, watching as Austin raises to his regular height, hovering just over him. "Oh really."

"Yes."

"Care to enlighten me?"

Austin doesn't say anything, just presses forward, the two of them slowly moving up against the one empty wall, moving up against each other. There's a fluidity to it, the two of them connected, languid. His lips ghost over Bennett's mouth, and Bennett's opens then, breaths into it, anticipation curling in his stomach despite that they haven't kissed yet.

Austin pulls back before they can, bracing his hands over Bennett's shoulder. Bennett waits, a little suspicious, bracing himself for what Austin's going to say, expecting some sort of teasing comment a little bit too barbed, some sort of calling out on how easily he responded and how much he must want Austin.

"Can I blow you?" Austin says.

Whatever he'd been expecting Austin to say, it wasn't that. Bennett, shocked, just blinks, mouth falling open slightly. Austin notices, eyes dropping to Bennett's mouth and staying there, fixated.

"Sorry?" Bennett chokes out, sure he's misheard.

Austin's eyes flicker back up. "Can I blow you?" he repeats, because apparently he actually said that.

Bennett lets out a shaky breath, and Austin backs off a little, letting a ghost of air down the newly made space between them. "Sorry. I shouldn't have - I just, I wanted to."

"Christ," Bennett says, under his breath, and Austin looks back over at him, mouth quirking up slightly.

"So that wasn't a  _no_ , but more of a  _holy shit_." Austin looks and sounds far too smug for Bennett's liking, but he's nowhere near the capacity to shut that down, overwhelmed by the idea of Austin on his knees in front of Bennett, hands and mouth on his hips and thighs and - _Jesus_ \- his cock.

And he wants that. He does.

"Please," Bennett says, voice more wrecked and breathless than he wants it to be, but Austin responds to it immediately, his pupils dilating almost on command, breath quickening as he presses forward again, already partially hard.

"Yes?" Austin asks, eyes scouring Bennett's to be sure.

"Yes," Bennett confirms, and Austin lets out a shaky breath before he drops to his knees. He glances up at Bennett for just a second before he looks down at the waistline of Bennett's jeans, one hand pressed to his hip, fingers curling over the waistband.

Bennett's next breath shudders out more than he exhales it. He's so hyped up on just the thought of what's about to happen it's embarrassing. "Austin."

Austin looks up, hands stilling immediately. "Stop?"

Bennett blinks, bewildered for a moment before he realizes what Austin thought, warmth uncurling from his chest at the implication of how careful Austin's being with him. "No," Bennett reassures, shaking his head, "Just. Watch it, we're still in another school."

Which, fuck, they're doing this at another school when they have a competition in another few hours. Bennett is officially a bad person. He dimly hopes Austin's voice won't sound fucked out, obvious as to what he'd been doing to anyone that had heard him speak when it was fine, but then his stomach tightens and he nearly jerks his hips imagining the sound of it.

Austin's still watching him, raising an eyebrow now. "Is that what's getting you so hot?"

"No," Bennett bites, tilting his head back against the wall, even though he's not entirely sure that the riskiness of it isn't a contributing factor. He's never done anything like this before.

Austin hums, and Bennett thinks that's that, and he braces himself, paying attention to where he can feel Austin's fingers pressing just above his waistband. He's focused on that, so it's a complete shock when he can feel Austin start to mouth over him through his jeans. Bennett hisses out a breath between his teeth, the surprise pressing it out involuntarily.

Austin chuckles, and Bennett can  _feel_  it. "Having fun?"

"You know, an extra bonus to you sucking me off is that you have to shut up to do it," Bennett snarks, and he means it be more mocking, but his voice is a little too breathless to pull that off.

Austin pulls back, letting out a sharp breath through his nose that Bennett can hear, and he looks down in concern to check on him, wondering how he could have done something wrong when no clothes are even out of place.

Which reminds him that Austin's -at the least- going to see his dick. Which he doesn't need to be thinking right now.

"Fuck, how do you just - Fuck," Austin says, pressing his head against Bennett's hip.

"What?" Bennett says, thoroughly confused.

Austin lets out a shaky laugh. "You have no idea what you sound like when you say that shit, do you? You're so reserved, and I never expect it, and all of sudden you're spitting sarcastic comments about how I can't mock you for getting surprised at having my shirt off since we've had our tongues in each other's mouths, or how blowing you will get me to be quiet."

Bennett's one part perplexed and one part embarrassed. "That's not -"

"And then," Austin interrupts, pulling back far enough to meet Bennett's eyes. "There's the way you  _look_."

Bennett can feel his forehead crease. "What do you mean?"

"You're just- you're- I know you'd hate to hear this, but you're so goddamn pretty." Austin tells him, and Bennett scowls at the accusation, and Austin seems to catch onto that instantly. "No, no, it's not an insult. You're beautiful, it's insane. You're sitting there and you're not smiling, you're scowling, but you're still... you have this weird attractiveness, even when you're crabby. It's freaking ridiculous. Even when you're snapping at me I sort of want to show my tongue into your mouth."

Bennett hips jerk sharply without his permission, and Austin lets out a laugh, but he doesn't mock Bennett for it, just keeps going. "Your eyes, they're so dark, and they're the perfect shape. Sometimes they're kind of eerie, I feel like you're seeing too much of everything, could actually shoot any of us down with a look, but  _god_  you should see the way they look like this, the way they do now, smouldering like that. And your hair, god, I love your hair so much. It's thick and you'll pull it out of your face and I'll get completely distracted. Every single time I think about doing any of these sort of things to you all I can think about is your hair, getting my hands in it, tugging, running through it. Once I got off on imagining the reverse of this, you sucking me off, your hair brushing my thighs, and it was the hottest thing I'd ever imagined before I finished and felt guilty for thinking about you like that when you wouldn't like it, not to mention being a little disturbed that so much of it focused on your hair."

Bennett lets out a strained laugh, and Austin tilts his head, obviously wondering if he's said too much. That's far from it, he hasn't made Bennett uncomfortable, not unless you count how he feels constricted in his jeans and untouched, and maybe that's the only way Austin's said too much because Bennett's a little frustrated at a lack of back up right now.

Bennett runs a hand through Austin's hair. "I hated your hair at first. Thought it was too messy, too much of an unkempt surfer boy look."

Austin chokes on a laugh.

"Had a thing for your eyes though," Bennett continues, almost retrospective over himself in a way, not speaking only to Austin. He tilts his head, running his hand far enough back to pull Austin's hair out of his face, the narrow ring of blue around his pupils shining in the dim light. "Even when I hated you the most, your eyes still got to me."

Austin grins at that, pleased. "Anything else?"

"Fishing for compliments?" Bennett mocks, dry, as he lets most of Austin's hair fall free, tucking a piece behind his ear.

"Sure, if I get to hear you say things about me."

"Your mouth," Bennett says, and thinks that Austin's eyes might actually flash. "I used to get distracted, when you were thinking you'd bite your lip sometimes, and it was chapped and pink but I knew what it felt like, I knew what it felt like on my mouth, and I wanted to bite it instead."

Austin's eyes are dark, his voice lower when he speaks again, "You're about to feel it around your dick."

A shudder wracks Bennett's entire body, another shuddery breath leaving him.

Austin watches him for another moment, expression intent as he watches Bennett tilt his head back again, mouth dropping open in heavy breaths, even as he keeps their eyes locked.

"You're a wild card, Netter," Austin says, and Bennett wants to protest the nickname, but then Austin's mouthing at him through his jeans again, and the words die in his mouth.

The sound of Bennett's zipper lowering is loud and clear in the small space, and Bennett's breath stalls in his chest for a second before he can steady it, Austin already hooking his fingers in Bennett's belt loops and tugging his jeans down.

His jeans are only halfway down his thighs when Austin brushes his hands back up, fingers curled into the waistband of his boxer-briefs just enough to be able to pull them down along with his jeans in one swift, abrupt motion.

Austin looks up at him again, eyes locked as he leans forward and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of Bennett's thigh. It looks hard on his neck, but God, if he's doing it turn Bennett on it's definitely doing it's job.

Austin looks down again, concentrating, mouth moving over the inside of Bennett's thigh, hands reaching up to pin Bennett's hips against the wall. Which is a little cold against his skin, but he barely notices. His hips try to move forward, seeking touch, despite that Bennett's involuntarily reaction was brought on by being restrained (apparently being pinned down isn't annoying him but turning him on, which isn't something he really wants to examine in high detail), but Austin doesn't let up.

He moves up, nipping at Bennett's hipbone, and Bennett, caught and limited, untouched and unsatisfied, whines.

Austin's lets out a laugh. "Sorry," he says, and Bennett wants to snap at him, but then his mouth sinks down over Bennett's cock.

Bennett stops breathing for a second before he reminds himself he needs oxygen, godammit.

Austin moves slowly, feeling it out, head sinking down and mouth so wet and hot that Bennett groans, completely unaware that anything could feel like this.

Austin bops his head a couple times, figuring things out, before he lowers his head again, hollows and his cheeks and  _sucks_.

Bennett cries out, realizing too late, dim, somewhere in the back of his mind the reminder for silence, claps a hand over his own mouth as he other hand tangles into Austin's hair, not controlling so much as just an extra sense telling him where he is.

Austin pulls off, mouth practically making a popping noise, completely obscene. "Good?" he says, eyes meeting Bennett's again, but he doesn't give Bennett the chance to respond before his tongue flickers out, licking at his slit.

Bennett groans, heavy, frustrated, and thankfully muffled by his hand.

"I know, sweetheart," Austin tells him, like he'd given an answer, hand brushing soothingly over Bennett's thigh before he moves in again, tongue licking a thick stripe up the vein on the underside of his dick.

Bennett cries out again, caught beneath his hand. Austin huffs, the air blowing hot and moist over Bennett's cock. "God, I shouldn't have waited until now. I wish I could hear you."

Bennett moans, drops the hand on his mouth. "Next time," he says, voice sounding deeper and more gravelly than he's ever heard it.

Austin groans himself. "See, this is what I meant with the unexpected lines."

Bennett wants to respond to that, has no idea what he would say if he did, but it doesn't matter since Austin lowers back down, mouth opening to let Bennett in, surrounded by heat and wet.

"I'm going to die," Bennett says, dimly aware of the words leaving his mouth. He's more of the way Austin chuckles in response, the vibrations travelling through Bennett's body.

"Austin, Austin, Austin," he repeats, like a chant, maybe a prayer, if this wasn't breaking about a hundred rules on perceived sexual morality. His hand tightens in Austin's hair, and Austin groans, and Bennett realizes dimly that Austin likes it, gets a firmer grip before he pulls, a sharp tug.

Austin practically  _whines_.

"God," Bennett whispers, hand running idly through Austin's hair, his body feeling like it's overheated, burning up even when half of it's exposed to the air. He thinks he might be sweating, stomach and temples a little too slick, but he's barely aware of that. "Austin," he says again, because while he's not the most self aware about his body that there is, he knows enough that he's way too affected by this for things to go on much longer.

Austin looks straight up at him, purposely holding Bennett's eyes as he sinks down again, mouth red and slick, Bennett's cock pushing it wider and disappearing between his lips.

"Jesus," he curses, awed by the sight. "Austin, if you -" he groans, Austin pulls off just enough to kiss the tip of his dick before he goes down again, "If you don't want - I'm close. If you, if you don't want to, ah, swallow." He gets out, face practically on fire with admitting that.

Austin looks up again, eyes shuddered under the fan of his blond lashes, before he sinks down as far as he can manage and sucks, humming as he does.

Practically on cue, Bennett comes, slapping a hand over his mouth to catch his cry as his other hand lifts from Austin's head in order to clamp onto one of the shelves lined on the walls next to them, desperately needing it to remember how to stay on his feet.

And Austin? Austin fucking  _swallows_. On their first try. He's insane, and it's hot enough that Bennett almost thinks they could do a repeat performance if his body was in any shape to react again so soon.

Austin moves up slightly, sort of leaning up from his knees, hooks his arms under Bennett's and helps lower him down. Bennett rests against Austin, too blissed out to really be ready for any higher level processing, slack against Austin's front with his face pressed to Austin's shirt, listening to the rapid beat of Austin's heart slow into a steady rhythm.

"Well," Bennett says, when he thinks he's actually capable enough to speak.

Austin laughs. "Yeah."

Bennett lifts his head then, meets Austin's eyes, a little nervous and hesitant. "Am I supposed to...?"

Austin shakes his head, running a hand through Bennett's hair. "Not if you don't want to. I wanted to give you one, and I definitely can't say I regret that."

Bennett laughs. "I kind of feel like you got the shit end of the deal on that one, actually."

Austin just hums in response, hand running absent-mindedly through Bennett's hair still, watching his face.

"Do I look like I just got sucked off?" Bennett asks, raising an eyebrow, and Austin closes his eyes sharply, groaning low under his breath. Bennett's reminded then that Austin hasn't gotten off yet.

"No, not really," Austin manages, opening his eyes again. "Do I?"

"Your mouth is pretty red," Bennett admits, reaching a hand out, finger trailing along the edge of Austin's swollen bottom lip.

Austin eye's shutter for a moment. "Worth it."

Bennett huffs in amusement, finger tracing Austin's lips. They sit there in comfortable silence for a moment, giving themselves time. Something slowly rises up in Bennett, a thought, a want, and the longer they sit there, the more space it seems to be growing to take up in his mind.

"Can I taste?" Bennett says into the silence, risking it.

Austin's eyes flash open. "Fuck."

Bennett snorts.

"No, seriously," Austin insists. "Like, fuck."

"Can I?" Bennett asks again. Austin nods, and Bennett moves in slowly, the kiss sweet and a large contrast to what they just did, especially when their tongues move into each other's mouths and Bennett can taste himself there in Austin's mouth.

He pulls back, breathing heavily, staring into Austin's face. He tries to say something, but no words come.

"Yeah," Austin says, agreeing with him.

Bennett shakes his head, overwhelmed, before without thinking he looks down at where Austin's straining in his jeans. "Are you sure -"

"Ben," Austin says, exasperated.

"No," Bennett says stubbornly, "I don't - It doesn't have to be a blow job."

Austin watching him, scrutinizing. He looks like he's considering it, but eventually he shakes his head. "Too messy otherwise."

Bennett's about to let it go, pulls his pants and underwear back up and buttons them, but then something comes to him, and he looks back at Austin, tilts his head. "How do you feel about going without underwear?"

Austin stares at him. "Fuck."


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We've got this," Austin says, and normally Bennett would hate Austin's unfounded confidence, but this time there's a part of him that agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is the chapter where I catch up to what's on fictionpress, so after this everything will be updated as it's written.

They take the time to come down from it, and Bennett feels weirdly sketchy and unlike himself skulking in a janitor's closet. (He hopes that none of the custodians need to come here any time soon, because it smells vaguely musky, and he's pretty sure it's fairly obvious as to what the smell is. It smells like sex. Fuck, this is now his life.)

Austin's lying on the floor, still looking a little out of it as he blinks up at the ceiling, slow. His jeans are caught halfway down his thighs, and he looks unaware of it and uncaring of the darker wet spot on the front of his boxers.

Bennett sits cross-legged beside him, watching him and waiting for the majority of his reasoning processes to come back, trying to keep the touch of amusement and smug confidence from radiating off him too profusely.

Austin blinks one more time and then turns to look at Bennett. Bennett sits, waiting for him to speak, but the silence stretches, Austin watching him intently enough to make Bennett uncomfortable.

"What?" Bennett says, a little sharp.

Austin just blinks, and then speaks, syrupy slow, "I thought I would regret getting involved with you when you kissed me back the first time, but it's pretty much the reverse of that."

Bennett flushes.

Austin huffs out a laugh. "You're blushing at that when I've sucked your cock and you've jerked me off?"

Bennett goes even redder, heat flooding his face, and reaches out to bat Austin on the closest place he can reach, which turns out to be just above his knee.

Austin laughs a little louder.

Bennett rolls his eyes. "Could you quit that? Hearing laughter from a janitor closet isn't exactly everyday."

Austin quiets at that. "Alright, okay, I'll just -" he sits up then, wriggling around as he starts to slip out of his underwear.

Bennett's flush stays firm, revived by this, and he turns around, putting his back to Austin. He's had his hand around Austin, but somehow he's not ready to see it.

Austin chuckles, but he doesn't say anything. The heat in Bennett's cheeks mostly calms, though some of it lingers, kept by the sound of rustling behind him, the only cause of it having to be Austin getting in and out of his clothes.

"You can turn back around now, dear. I'm decent," Austin says, amused mocking in his voice.

Bennett looks over his shoulder at him to glower. "Excuse me for not being as shameless as you are."

Austin shrugs a shoulder. "I'm not ashamed. IF I hadn't asked to blow you, I wouldn't have gotten to, would I?"

Bennett can feel the blush burn over his cheekbones again, and whips his head back around, ducking it against his chest as his mutters, "Quit it."

Austin huffs in amusement from behind him, crawling forwards until he can hook his chin over Bennett's shoulder, digging in. "I can't help it if you're easy to tease."

Bennett tries to pretend that he's not a step away from pouting. "Doesn't mean you have to tease me."

"No," Austin admits. "But I like to. Besides," he pulls back then, reaching to take Bennett's chin in his hand and turn his face towards him, "you look good when you blush."

Bennett, practically on command, feels his his face go hotter. He locks his jaw and jerks his face out of the hold.

Austin tries to catch his laugh, but Bennett hears it none the less.

"You're a fucking jerk," he says, but it doesn't come snappish as much as almost fond.

"Apparently that's your type, then," Austin replies, and Bennett starts to get indignant, but Austin derails by ducking forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

He pulls away then, and Bennett hears the snick of the latch catching over the door frame as Austin opens it, light spilling into the room. Bennett looks up to see Austin standing, silhouetted in the doorway. "C'mon," he says, voice seeming strange when it comes from Austin as a whole instead of just his mouth.

Bennett gets up and follows him out.

* * *

 

They find Luc and Cooper sitting in the Jefferson cafeteria, splitting a muffin and a bag of skittles.

Luc looks up. "Hey, where'd you two disappear off to?"

Bennett prays fervently that they don't reek of sweat and sex, and slides to sit next to Luc, saying as casually as he can, "Nowhere, really. Just looked around a bit."

"What are you two up to?" Austin asks, dropping down next to Cooper and across from Bennett.

"Got hungry, but we couldn't decide what we wanted so we decided to divide and conquer," Cooper explains, gesturing to the food they're divvying up between them. "Either of you want some banana muffin or skittles.

Both of them shake their heads.

"Good, you'd mess up the system," Cooper says, swiping a green skittle to pop into his mouth.

"Why is it always the green candy?" Luc mutters to himself.

Cooper points a finger at him. "The green ones are the best ones."

Luc pulls a face. "I suppose that works out, because I sure as hell don't want them."

"You have no taste."

"Sure,  _I_  don't," Luc says, a little bitingly. Cooper looks up in surprise.

"What?"

"Nothing," Luc grumbles, "I'm going to get a drink from the water fountain, be right back." He hauls himself out the chair and walks away.

Cooper looks after him before turning to Austin and Bennett with confusion written over his face. "He hates drinking from the water fountains."

Bennett decides it's better to distract him than to venture that topic of conversation. "How're you feeling about Jefferson?"

Cooper snorts. "You kidding me? They're practically fodder."

"How does this work, anyway?" Austin asks, reaching forward to snatch a red skittle and pop it into his mouth while Cooper scowls at him.

"You're in debate club but don't know how the debate competitions work?" Bennett asks, flat.

Austin raises an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Bennett puts his head in his hands. "We pair in groups of two. Then we get a topic, then we argue. If it's really serious, sometimes we get given the topic ahead of time and can research."

"Well, we know Rocky and Bullwinkle over here are a sure bet," Austin says throwing a thumb in Cooper's direction, whose scowl deepens. "Wanna partner?"

Bennett raises his head from his hands and stares at Austin.

Austin raises an eyebrow back. "Dude."

Bennett rolls his eyes. "Fine, whatever," he says, sounding long-suffering, though there's a shaky pulse of excitement racing over his skin, knowing that the two of them are exceptional when they debate together, as he learned the last time they partnered for it.

He doesn't let himself wonder if that's the only situation where they're like that together.

* * *

 

Luc comes back a couple minutes after this, face mottled pink, collar dark with dampness in places. Cooper's watching him, eyes a little more intent than necessary.

"You doing okay?" Cooper asks him.

Luc shakes his hair out of his eyes, then drags his bangs off his forehead. "Sure. Just needed some breathing room, I think."

Cooper snorts. "We'll nail the debate, Corporal."

A smile tugs at the corner of Luc's mouth as he drops next to Bennett again. "Of course, how could I ever think otherwise?"

"Exactly."

Austin jostles Bennett's feet under the table, and Bennett looks up at him to watch Austin raise his eyebrows and tip his head towards the two of them, as though to say  _Would you look at these two?_

Bennett kicks him underneath the table, lightly.  _Leave them alone._

Austin rolls his eyes.  _No promises._

Ms. Pursbury appears in the doorway then, giving a soft knock on the frame to get their attention. "Boys? We're meeting back at the room."

"Be right there," Cooper tells her, and waits until she smiles and disappears around the corner before his arm snakes out and he shovels half of the skittles off the table to catch them with his other hand, before immediately chucking it into his mouth.

Luc gives him a flat look.

"What? We have to leave in like, five seconds. Might as well eat the skittles," Cooper offers with a shrug.

Luc's look flattens further.

Cooper looks a little repentant. "Take the rest?"

Staring Cooper down, Luc slips his phone out of his pocket and crushes one of the green skittles with the edge of it.

Cooper looks wounded. "Why must you hurt me in this way?"

Luc rolls his eyes, turning to Bennett and Austin. "Are you going to have any? I'd be quick about it before we have to use them as sacrifices."

"No," Cooper whines, reaching out and swiping a huge swath of skittles using the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

Luc doesn't even blink. "Well?"

Bennett raises his eyebrows. "I'll, uh, pass."

Austin shrugs. "I'll bite," he says, grabbing a handful of skittles along with remains of the picked at muffin, dumping them on top.

Bennett makes a face, and it must be obvious, because Austin grins and takes a crunching bite.

"Do either of you have  _taste buds_?" Luc says, sounding disgusted.

Austin shrugs, while Cooper dumps another huge handful of skittles into his mouth.

Bennett sighs and stands up, tugging at Austin and Luc's shoulders with a hand each. "C'mon, we have work to do."

* * *

 

Bennett ushers the group of them all the way back to the classroom, because apparently he got three dogs that need to sniff everything instead of three teenage boys.

Ms. Pursbury's waiting for them, practically vibrating with excitement. René just looks bored.

She looks mildly more interested when she catches sight of Luc. She says something to him in French, which Bennett doesn't have the first hope of understanding, but her voice is mocking, a little lilt of amusement to it. Luc scowls and smacks her around the head, and René just laughs, proving Bennett's theory that she was teasing him.

"What did she say?" Austin asks, while Cooper just looks annoyed.

"I don't really think it's appropriate for translation," she says, obviously pleased with herself.

Luc's ears colour slightly. "It isn't important."

René just looks at him, amused. "You're lighting up like a stop sign."

"I am  _not_ ," Luc says adamantly, turning even redder.

"René, quit teasing Luc before he's too flustered to debate," Bennett tells her, and René rolls her eyes but complies, leaning back against her seat again.

"Alright kids, does everyone know who they're pairing with?" Ms. Pursbury says, eyes shining.

"Yes," Luc and Cooper respond in unison. René rolls her eyes.

"I'll come around and confirm who you're working with."

Austin turns around in his seat to face Bennett, one arm lying casually off of the back of his chair. He raises both eyebrows, which is enough of a question within itself.

Bennett shrugs, though he feels the nerves running through his body. "Still on, if you haven't changed your mind."

Austin grins, teeth shining white. "Great."

"Boys?" Ms. Pursbury asks as she wanders over.

"Luc and I," Cooper responds.

"I got Bennett," Austin tells her, slinging an arm over the back of Bennett's chair as he turns to face her. Bennett shoots him a narrow look from the corner of his eye.

"Giles," René tells her, leaning between the group of them to speak to Ms. Pursbury, even though she could have easily waited for her to come around.

"Alright, got it," Ms. Pursbury says with a smile, before she moves on.

"Ready to kick ass?" Cooper asks.

"Absolutely," Luc answers.

"We've got this," Austin says, and normally Bennett would hate Austin's unfounded confidence, but this time there's a part of him that agrees.

* * *

 

Bennett knows a lot of the people on the other team. He's gone up against them the last couple years, if not in debate team then on something else.

He recognizes one more strongly then the others. His name's Brian Harding, and he's a genius, one of the kids he went up against in the Decathlon last year. Chances are they'll see each other this year too, and Brian must recognize them as well because he grins, sharp edged and bright.

Cooper sneers back, lip curling, before Luc knocks him in the side and steers him over to their set of chairs pushed against the wall, behind the long tables set up on either side of the large, spacious room. Bennett feels exposed in the extra space, the air squirming in around him, but he ignores it, walks calmly to sit at the chairs behind the table set up for them. Austin flickers a glance over their opponents, but he doesn't say anything or change his expression, just sits quietly next to Bennett, looking contemplative.

Luc and Cooper sit beside them, René and Giles piling on after, and Cooper looks sour at the fact that René's sitting on Luc's other side.

"Who's going first?" Ms. Pursbury asks, voice lowered like it's a secret and that the pair they choose won't be walking up five seconds after they decide.

"Luc and Cooper," René says, like they've all conferred and come to that decision. Cooper turns and glares at her, and since he's never been opposed to going first if it's his strong suit, Bennett thinks it's mostly because René was the one volunteering them.

"Is that alright?" Ms. Pursbury turns to them.

Luc nods before Cooper can respond. "Sure, but only if you don't want anyone else on the team to be able to meet where we'll set the bar."

René snorts. "I plan to go last and blow the rest of you out of the water."

"You keep telling yourself that," Cooper says, but it's biting, a sharp snap instead of a tease.

"Cooper," Luc says in a hush, chastising. Cooper drops his eyes, locks his jaw for a second, before he turns and walks up to the table. Luc trails a little ways after, settling to stand beside him.

The other team confers for a moment, whispering amongst themselves, but Brian doesn't join them at first. He looks across the room, eyes directly on Bennett, and  _smiles_.

It sets Bennett off-balance. He can't figure out what it means, if it's just a tactic to set him off his game. If it is, maybe it's working, because his mind is running over itself. There's a mean tilt to the look, but also something a little too scrutinizing to be pure antagonism.

Brian holds it for a moment, before turning and joining in with his team mates, and the whispers seem barbed, winding across the room to snag around Bennett's ribcage and squeeze, vines crossing the room and circling him. He's worried, and he's not sure why, when this is a competition without any real weight or standing behind it.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he nearly jumps out of his skin, looking over to see Austin watching him, eyes careful and focused on Bennett.

"They'll be fine," he says, low. "You have to trust that they can do this."

"I do," Bennett says, realising he means it. "It's the other team I don't trust."

Austin looks up across the room, mouth flattened in contemplation.

They don't say anything else on the matter, because Jefferson finishes up then, sending up a girl with a blue patterned hijab and a smaller girl with blonde braids winding around her head.

Cooper and Luc dominate. There isn't really any reason to give the debate in detail, considering as soon as they get going the girls begin to look alarmed at the smooth synchronized arguments the boys work with. Bennett still gets caught a little off guard by them, and he's known them for over two years.

They flow in and around each other, going off one argument and straight into another, and it seems like the girls are barely able to keep up. Bennett's always been amazed by the two of them; his talents are a little more spread out, but these two were made for history, and maybe, he thinks, for each other.

Though he doubts they're ready to hear that.

They look smug when the debate's called to a close and they turn back to their seats. When they've both swivelled and sat, practically choreographed, they exchange a subtle hand shake/slap to congratulate each other.

Their opponents go back, and Jefferson gets into hurried, hushed conversation as soon as they converge. Brian, again, is the only one standing apart, watching Bennett from his chair, but this time he doesn't smile, posture cross-armed and flat faced. His eyes are cold and dead, and it sends a shiver down Bennett's spine.

Someone touches Brian's arm, and he finally turns away, joins in with his other team mates. Bennett tries not to breathe a sigh of relief.

Lucina and Cameron go up next against Jefferson, and they lose, though it's close, the teachers conferring for a while before calling it. Lucina's mouth gets tight at the announcement, like she's ready to argue against that just as easily as her debate topic, but Cameron takes her gently by the arm and leads them back to sit.

Bennett and Austin get called next, and Bennett freezes for a split second before Austin claps a hand on his shoulder as he stands, like a call to battle. It wakes Bennett up, the warmth through his shirt and into his skin like a torch to kindling, and he stands up, walks calmly to stand beside Austin at the table.

When Brian Harding gets up to stand across from him, Bennett isn't surprised in the least. He gets followed by another boy Bennett remembers, someone named Todd or Tanner of something along those lines, someone whose stature makes him look taller despite that he's still short and weedy. He's got beady eyes, and that's why Bennett remembers him, even though his talent's fairly unremarkable, neither a disaster or a genius among the standards they work with in this group.

They get given a topic on whether the current voting age is workable, Bennett and Austin getting the positive side while Jefferson gets the negative. They've barely been told to start before they're already firing back and forth, the beady eyed kid a little behind them but holding up well enough to be dragged too far behind to catch up. Brian's mostly the one spear-heading their side, and it makes Bennett a little disconcerted that he's managing to hold up against Bennett and Austin while taking most of the pressure and work onto himself. Austin doesn't look put off in the least, if anything he looks more impassioned, calling up facts and statistics from who knows where in his brain.

Bennett feels more like his sidekick, and it puts him off more, but he thinks it might be a feedback cycle, making it so the more he's feeling offset the more nervous and off his game he is, which makes him feel even more off. He's trying to push it out, to focus on the debate, on what's being said and what to counter with, but he knows Austin's pulling more of the weight and it sticks under his skin.

They win, but again it's by the barest margin, far from a decisive victory like Luc and Cooper's. Bennett feels the shame prickle its way through him, and hates it, hates that feeling, knows this didn't even mean anything but can't shake it off.

Austin glances at him from the corner of his eye, and when everyone else is distracted picking who goes up next, Austin sticks a hand between Bennett's back and the chair. Bennett looks over at him, steely and ready to tell off him because now is  _not_  the time to decide to mess around, before Austin palms at his lower back, unable to be seen by anyone that's not watching too carefully, and Bennett realizes it's for comfort.

He leans into it a little, anchored by the contact and feeling pathetic for it. He's weak, he's fucking weak, can't even handle a little loss because he's so used to being coddled and handed easy victories.

He doesn't deserve to be the leader of the Scholastic Team. Or maybe he does, the team practically useless until the end of the year, scattered among various other clubs and commitments and barely needing the supplement offered by the Scholastic Team, only really useful at the end of the year for Scholastic Decathlon. He would say that, but he doesn't want to belittle the others along with him.

By the time René and Giles go up, the scores tied, their side losing the round before with a couple of kids Bennett barely knows the faces of, guesses won't end up coming to Regionals because they don't have the focus in it the rest of the team has. René and Giles are the last ones, and Bennett's trying not to pin all his hopes on the two of them, knows that this doesn't mean anything in the larger scheme of things, doubts he'll even remember it a couple years down the road when he's looking back at high school, but he can't keep his the nerves from shooting shaky down his fingers and locking his stomach in his throat.

They dominate.

René's got her whip sharp smarts behind her, her voice and the way she argues forming along just as well as the words, until she can be making a completely ridiculous argument but you feel in the wrong going against her. Giles is her opposite, steady tone and slow words, careful in the way he says them, sounding logical instead of filled with emotion. They make a good team, two sides of the same argument presenting a united front.

Bennett tries to swallow the bitter taste of jealously settling thick on his tongue.

They shake hands with Jefferson, polite as can be, going back to the room they'd staked out and all their bags. They get partway down the hallway before René looks over her shoulder, checking that they're alone, before she lets out a whoop and punches her fist up above her.

Bennett rolls his eyes, but Austin looks slightly amused and pleased.

"We are the champions, my friend," she sings, turning to Giles. "And we'll keep on fighting, 'til the end."

Giles looks a little amused, but he doesn't join in, so René spins off to Luc and slings an arm around his shoulders, despite that he's almost half a foot taller. "We are the champions, we are the champions, no time for losers because are the champions," she tosses back her head here and shouts, "of the WOOOOORLD!"

"I don't know if I'd go so far as to claim the entire world just yet," Luc says, dryly amused. He doesn't seem to be the least bit put off by René hanging off him, and Giles hasn't batted an eye, though Cooper doesn't look particularly happy with the development.

Austin goes over to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders instead of Bennett's for once. "You're not being subtle," he says, and Cooper looks at him with bewilderment.

"Subtle about what?" he asks.

Austin snorts and shakes his head. "Nevermind."

Cooper still looks confused, but they reach the room then, and Austin takes him arm off to jog inside and get his bag, cutting the discussion off. Cooper frowns, wandering in after Luc and looking annoyed that he has to trail behind because only two of them can fit through the doorway at a time, and he won't fit with René hanging off Luc's side.

"Everyone double check you haven't left anything, and then we'll all pile on the bus!" Ms. Pursbury tells them, full of cheer.

René detaches then, wandering over to Giles, likely to pull more praise out of him despite that he'd put an equal amount of work and effort into earning their win, and Luc snorts, smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

"What, you're amused by her draping all over you?" Cooper snaps, and Luc looks over to him with alarm.

"She's just messing around," he says, voice a little lost, but not sounding particularly surprised. Bennett doesn't know if he's aware of the reason behind the antagonism, or if he just knows that Cooper and René don't get along in general without understanding the specific cause.

"Right," Cooper says between clenched teeth, stalking over to grab his bag and whirling around to stride out, leaving them standing in the room with a stilted silence between the three of them.

"Cooper's overreacting," Austin finally says, gentle, looking like he doesn't know whether to touch Luc as a reassurance or keep his distance.

"I know," Luc admits, defeated. "I just wish I knew how to fix it."

He sounds so downtrodden and upset that the two people closest to him can't get along that Bennett doesn't offer anything up, sure that nothing he can say will help.

* * *

 

The ride is quiet, and Luc looks heartbroken when Cooper doesn't sit next to him, moving a couple rows back instead and planting earbuds in. René must either feel repentant or spiteful, because she takes Giles by the hand and sits across the aisle from Luc, switching from English to French and back again, all soft tones.

Austin drops himself into the seat behind Bennett again, and Bennett isn't even surprised this time. The two of them look back for a moment, watching the exchange, before Austin murmurs to him, "It's a shame, isn't it?"

Bennett doesn't reply for a moment, watching the way René lays a hand on Luc's arm, and Cooper's jaw goes tight before he turns to look out the window.

"For Luc, maybe," Bennett decides, "but Cooper's getting himself into this."


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bennett visibly flinches, checking over his shoulder before he can quell the urge. When he turns back around, Austin looks visibly shocked, if not little concerned.
> 
> "Ben -"
> 
> "Don't," he says, choked, shame prickling through him at his obvious reaction, and he can feel his cheeks going blotchy with colour. He hates Austin treating him like he's fragile, like he needs pitying, Ben instead of Netter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's later than I planned, but it's also longer than I planned, soooo... that probably evens out. Also this isn't heavily edited, because I'm tired and there's more to go through, so if there are more errors than usual I apologize.

Thanksgiving nudges up just around the corner after that, and while commercials start to surface more frequently and autumn decorations go up in full force, there's a definite nip to the air that wasn't there a few weeks ago, which makes it seem ridiculous that so much of the season's celebration shows up when it's winding to a close. Bennett doesn't really get the fervour around the whole thing, never has, but the one time he voiced that aloud, back when his parents where still together and he was trailing after his dad in the supermarket looking for the ingredients for dinner, a huge, hulking white man had whirled on him with sneering, snarling teeth and told him to "go back to his country."

His father had stepped forward, narrow eyed, told him that this  _was_  their country, and the man had backed off right away, but the memory still sticks with Bennett. He especially feels hesitant since his father isn't around anymore, and he's alyways been caught somewhere between American and Japanese: listening to his mother tell him about Thanksgiving valuing workers and people, as well as dealing with trade unions and giving notes to your teachers for their work; different from his father, who he'd sit beside as his dad reiterated the tale of Native Americans and settlers trading bounty with an overfilling cornucopia dominating the scene. Neither feels completely right to Bennett, but there isn't any in-between here, he'll go home and celebrate a quiet Thanksgiving with his mom a couple days before the American one, which he might get a call from his dad on if he's lucky.

* * *

 

Cooper stalks up to them the first morning of the week Thanksgivings set in, eyes blazing. "If any of you say one fucking word about the Native Americans appreciating all the Europeans brought to them and that they gave up food to show their gratitude, or even worse, that I should do the same, I'll punch you hard enough that you won't be able to stomach Thursday night's turkey dinner."

Jasmine's eyebrows climb sharply up her face.

Luc comes loping up behind Cooper then. "Sorry, he gets in a mood around this time of year."

"Of course I do," Cooper snaps, before he whirls around and walks off.

Luc watches him go. "You know, it's a good thing we share first block, because otherwise there'd be no one to bring his books to him."

"You know his combo," Bennett says, dry, statement of fact more than a question. He's note even surprised. Luc and Cooper share everything to the point that it's almost a concern.

Luc shrugs, opening up his own locker and rearranging the books he's carrying before he closes it and opens Cooper's, grabbing a couple of books from there too. "See you guys later," he says, before closing it and walking off.

"So, you guys going to get yourselves stuffed on turkey?" Alison asks, turning to them.

Jasmine gives her a flat look. "Tell me you didn't just make that joke."

Alison grins back, wiggling her eyebrows ridiculously. Bridget snorts into her sleeve.

"I, for one, am looking forward to the pie," Austin says, raking a hand through his hair to get his bangs out of his eyes.

"I feel you on that one," Peter chimes, sounding and looking a little hesitant to jump into the conversation.

"I like having all of the family together," Bridget contributes.

"I just like all the pumpkin flavoured stuff everywhere." Alison shrugs.

Peter looks at her. "The white girl is the one going for pumpkin spice lattes, who would have guessed?"

Alison flips a hand instead of looking offended. "If you're not ordering one just because it's a 'white girl' thing, then you're missing out."

"Ditto," Austin says.

"You get them?" Peter asks, bewildered.

"Absolutely," Austin says, staring Peter down like he's ready to fight him over the worth of pumpkin flavoured drinks.

Jasmine turns to look at Bennett. "What about you? What do you pine for the second the leaves turn orange?"

Bennett looks her dead in the eye and says, "Long weekend."

She high fives him.

"You guys are so lame," Peter whines.

"Sure thing, pie guy," Jasmine tells him, turning and strutting off to first period. If anyone knows how to make an exit, it's Jasmine.

"That girl sure has style," Austin says, letting out a low whistle.

"You're just looking at her ass," Peter snaps, and Austin turns to him, slowly raising one eyebrow. Peter withers under the look. "Sorry."

"She's your friend, not just a piece of ass," Austin replies, instead of acknowledging the apology.

Peter frowns. "We all know you two were interested when you first met."

Austin's eyebrows raise higher. "Possibly, when we first met. Doesn't mean shit now."

Peter sneers. "What, you tapped that?"

Austin stares him down. "Her, not that. And no, I didn't, not that it's any of your business."

Peter's mouth tightens, but Austin just locks his jaw and walks away.

Bennett stalls a moment, watching Austin head towards their first class, before he turns and looks at Peter, contemplative. Peter's quiet, probably stewing and sulking, and Bennett steps forward, causing Peter to look up with alarm.

"You have to learn to prioritize her as a friend, or you'll lose her altogether, and maybe a couple more of us along the way," Bennett tells him, voice lowered to keep it private.

Peter ducks his head. "I'm getting that now."

* * *

 

When Bennett gets to English, Austin's scowling in his seat, which alarms Bennett for a split second before he sees the way Emery's corralling him into his seat, and realizes that it's not carry-over from Peter. It's just their school's version of the media - or maybe just Emery being himself, that wouldn't surprise Bennett.

"Something up?" Bennett says, voice casual.

Emery turns to look at him, Austin's eyes cutting over though he keeps his body turned to towards Emery. "I was just asking Austin some questions about the debate against Jefferson."

Bennett raises one eyebrow. "Were you?"

"Yes," Emery says, smiling with sharp teeth. "Could I ask you some too?"

"Of course," Bennett replies easily, dropping into his seat and settling like he's comfortable as can be. Emery looks a little put off by that.

"You two worked together, right?" Emery asks, fishing his pencil out from where he'd tucked it behind his ear, nearly lost in curly black hair.

"Yes," Bennett responds, watching Emery's hand hovering over his notepad, focusing there instead of Emery's face.

"And you just barely won your match, correct?"

Bennett's quiet for a moment. "Yes. We had one of the more difficult opponents."

"Besides, I'm not as versed in all this as Ben is," Austin says, and Bennett glances to him in surprise, watching him wave a hand over both Bennett and Emery. He's lying flat out, Bennett could tell this even if he hadn't experienced the debate first hand, can see the too casual look on Austin's face and the way he's using his hand instead of looking Emery in the eye. It alarms Bennett, to realize he's beginning to read Austin this way.

"Right," Emery says, flipping through a couple of pages. "I heard you went up against Brian Harding, a Jefferson senior with early admission to Yale?"

Bennett didn't know that, but he can feel the envy rushing in him, likely what Emery was aiming for. He's a junior, it doesn't matter yet - or so he tries to tell himself. "Yes, we did. Considering it was two juniors against two of the other team's most talented seniors, I think it's fairly impressive that we won, even with difficulty."

Emery's mouth twists, like this wasn't the angle he was going for with his article. Bennett has to resist some of the smugness he's feeling from reaching his expression.

"I don't know if we could have done it if we didn't have work so well together," Austin adds.

Emery's eyes light up then, like he's found a new route to ruthlessly pursue. Bennett's stomach knots up; that look can't mean anything good. "So you two are close?"

Bennett glances at Austin from the corner of his eye, and Austin looks a little uncomfortable, unsure what Emery's getting at but intelligent enough to know there's more behind the question. "I've only been here for a couple months, so taking that into account, I guess so."

Emery quirks an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound very definite. I've heard that Bennett can have a very abrasive personality and struggles as a team player. Is that true?"

Austin looks him dead in the eye. "No, that's bullshit."

Emery rocks back a little, nearly taking a step back before he catches himself. Bennett's feeling a little similar at the declaration. Emery clears his throat, catching his composure. "Oh, then what would you say about him?"

Austin practically bears his teeth. "He's fucking brilliant and the best leader the team could have asked for."

Emery jots down on his notepad. "So he's stiff and focuses on his work?"

Austin looks murderous. "He's hardworking, but that doesn't equal that he's unemotional."

Emery looks up. "So he's over-emotional?"

Austin makes a frustrated noise in his throat."No. He's reserved, and there is  _nothing wrong with that_." He looks ready to take Emery on if he twists that statement.

Emery eyes him carefully. "So you like him?"

"Yes."

"Are you two involved? Did you partner at the debate because there's also a romantic involvement?"

Bennett has to fight to keep his feelings off of his face. He knows Emery's just saying it to set him off, to get a reaction, and he has to try so hard to keep himself from making one. Bennett doubts Emery actually believes it, but he's so close to hitting the nail on the head, and if he realizes it he'll keep pushing. Bennett hasn't really thought of it before, how easily someone could find out, what would happen if they did, too preoccupied with the way Austin wound him up to think of the implications of it getting out. It seems stupid not to have considered it before, but it hits him all then, and he feels sick with it, vaguely realizes that his hands are shaking and is grateful that they're tucked under his desk, lying on his lap where Emery can't see.

Austin's lie slips out easily, "No, not at all. What two people can't get along without there being more to it?"

Emery shrugs, like the question really was innocent. "Of course they can, I was just asking."

Of course he was.

The bell rings then, and Emery smiles, broad and fake. "Well, thank you for the conversation, gentleman," he says, before turning away and walking to his desk.

Bennett has no idea what Emery's going to publish as in his next column, and he doubts Emery can say much about their relationship, but the fear has settled into his gut and hooked in there with claws, heavy and sinking ice cold through him.

* * *

 

Austin doesn't seem particularly worried, looking perfectly normal and casual when he gets up to stand in front of Bennett's desk after class ends, backpack slung off of one shoulder. "Ready to go, Netter?"

Bennett doesn't react to the nickname, just drops his eyes and stacks his books together, methodological. From where Austin's hovering over him, he can still see him frown.

"You okay?" he says, soft. Bennett doesn't like it, the carefulness, the pity, and especially not in front of Emery.

"I'm fine," he says, short, finally gets his books the way he wants them and puts them into his bag.

Austin doesn't look entirely convinced, and he shifts on his feet when Bennett gets up, like maybe he's going to block him and force the issue, or maybe he has the urge to take Bennett's bag away from him because he looks fragile, Bennett doesn't know.

"Going to actually leave the classroom?" Bennett asks him, a little sarcastic, raising his eyebrows. He's used it purposefully, and it has its desired effect, Austin visibly settling at the tease.

"Maybe I just wanted to wait for you to go first so I could watch your beautiful ass," he comments, raising his eyebrows in turn, and Bennett visibly flinches, checking over his shoulder for where Emery usually sits before he can quell the urge. When he turns back around, Austin looks visibly shocked, if not little concerned.

"Ben -"

"Don't," he says, choked, shame prickling through him at his obvious reaction, and he can feel his cheeks going blotchy with colour. He hates Austin treating him like he's fragile, like he needs pitying, Ben instead of Netter.

Austin's lips flatten, but he drops it, steps back and gives Bennett the room to walk past him. Bennett does, pace clipped, and doesn't look back at Austin.

* * *

By the time he makes it back to his locker, he thinks he's calmed his reaction. His stomach clenches the second between Jasmine swinging her head to look at him and when she says, "There you are, I need you to prove that Cooper's an idiot."

Bennett arcs an eyebrow at her, trying to feign sardonic interest instead of relief. "What did he do?"

"Nothing, I'm not wrong," Cooper says, stubborn and a little petulant.

Bennett looks at him for a second, before turning back to Jasmine. "So, what did he do?"

Cooper makes an offended "hey!" from behind him, but judging from the fact that he doesn't get tackled from behind, he guesses that Luc laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"He claims that Thanksgiving is only American," she says, gesturing at him.

Bennett shoots him an incredulous look. "Really? There's Japanese Thanksgiving, Ukrainian Thanksgiving, Canadian Thanksgiving, -"

"I got that, thanks," Cooper says dryly. "You don't have to list all the countries, Jasmine practically covered that already."

Jasmine waves off a salute. "You're welcome."

Austin leans his shoulder against the locker next to Bennett's, because apparently he doesn't need anything for their next class. "So, what are you two doing? Are you celebrating more than one?"

Jasmine shrugs.

"Probably both, but if not, we'll definitely do the Chinese one. It's actual a winter festival in China, so it's a pretty big deal. We eat dumplings, though I usually steal some more from my mom."

Luc jumps in, grinning. "Canadian Thanksgiving's over, thank you very much. Happened in October, instead of Columbus Day."

Cooper gives him a sour look. "Quit being all smug about that."

"Come on, you're totally jealous we don't have that 'erasure-promoting racist holiday'."

Cooper throws his hands up. "That doesn't mean you have to be smug your Thanksgiving is earlier."

Luc looks him dead on. "Yeah, it kind of does."

Cooper huffs.

Bennett rolls his eyes, and Austin turns to him then. "What about you, Netter?"

Bennett shrugs, trying to feign casualness like Jasmine had when she'd done it. "I don't know, depends on if my mom's working on either. We don't really put a lot of stock in the American one either."

Most of the group kind of looks at him, side-eyeing if not staring outright. "Isn't a holiday though?" Alison finally breaks in with.

Bennett nods. "Yeah, but she created her own company, so it's not like she ever really takes a full day off. It's still small, so if something goes wrong, she's the one that has to manage it."

The group looks more sympathetic than Bennett's comfortable with.

Austin looks contemplative for a second, before he suddenly grins, a spread of teeth like a shark. "I know, you should come to mine for Thanksgiving."

"No," Bennett says, not even thinking about it.

"C'mon," Austin wheedles, "It'll be fun. Free food and everything."

Bennett shakes his head. "Thanksgiving's supposed to be about family."

"Yeah, and since yours mostly seem to playing AWOL, you can be an honorary member of our family for the night."

Bennett glares at him. "I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure that  _I'm_ ," he gestures down his body, indicating the fact that he is very much one of their white all-american family, "obviously not a member of your family."

Austin rolls his eyes. "You're missing the point. Thanksgiving is about being thankful and generous, so here, my gift to you."

"Thank you, but I think I'll pass," Bennett says, dry.

"Netter," Austin whines, pulling out the last syllable until he sounds like he has a chronically bad case of using filler words, and yeah, Bennett's done with this conversation.

Bennett grabs his books, stalking off to Biology, where Austin thankfully won't be, though Austin follows him all the way to his classroom like the annoyance he is.

* * *

Austin wheedles at him through all of Physics, and then all of Math, and Bennett's kind of tempted to give in out of annoyance alone.

"Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen," he whines as he follows Bennett to his locker, herding up against his back.

Jasmine leans back against her locker, looking amused and smug like she's just been offered a free show. "He's still at it, huh?"

Bennett shoots her a withering look for being entirely helpful. Being a bystander is the same as being an accomplice, since she's willingly letting the whole thing continue.

"He won't go," Austin says.

"Maybe that would indicate to you to stop pushing," Bennett says, annoyed.

Austin shrugs a shoulder. "I think you're just reluctant."

Bennett stares him down, unsympathetic.

"C'mon Ben, it'll be fun. You can gang up with my sister and charm my parents. You've already got my mom down at least, she's been asking after you so she obviously likes you."

Ben turns in surprise before he can stop himself. "She does?"

Austin smiles, a little wry. "Yeah, she does. I believe she's called you 'polite, intelligent, and a very nice young man'. I'm starting to wonder if she's planning to replace me."

A smile tugs unbidden at the corner of his mouth, and he turns away before Austin can push it as an excuse to get him to come. "Who wouldn't want to replace you with me?"

Austin punches him in the arm, and Bennett staggers forward against his locker, throwing a smile over his shoulder and managing to hold back his laugh.

* * *

His mother's waiting for him when he gets home, sitting at the island and pouring over her company's transactions. She doesn't glance up when he comes in, but she does when he drops his bag by one of the barstools. He doesn't sit, and she seems to know he's about to approach a topic, so she just raises an expectant eyebrow.

"Are we doing anything for Thanksgiving?" he asks.

His mother taps her fingers on the countertop. "I doubt very much," she says, confirming what he thought she'd say, though he's disappointed still. "Why?"

He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "A friend asked me over for Thanksgiving."

His mother hums, looking back down at her papers and records. "Alright."

He wishes that she'd miss him for the holiday, but he's dealt with it long enough that it isn't really unexpected.

* * *

Austin comes up the next day, and instead of alerting Bennett to his presence like a normal person, he crowds right behind him and specifically leans down so that he can dig his chin into Bennett's shoulder. "So, Netter."

Bennett groans. "Please tell me you're not going to spend all day bugging me again."

Austin pauses. "I could, but I'd be lying."

"Ugh," Bennett says, and then lets his head loll back and to the side, so he can see Austin's face, a little blurry this close up. "Fine."

Austin straightens up, and Bennett doesn't know if it's involuntary or not because of excitement, but his hands drop down and clutch at Bennett's waist. "Really?"

Bennett tries to pretend that Austin's hands aren't anything unusual, that it doesn't make his heart jump, that at the same time it doesn't make him nervous and itch to push them away. "Sure, if you stop bugging me."

Austin leans over Bennett's shoulder to press a sloppy kiss to his jaw, which shocks him, his stomach turning over with either excitement or fear, maybe both. He freezes up, and tries to unlock his muscles down his body, get himself to relax, but it seems like his feelings have lodged up into his throat.

He ducks his head into his locker before anyone can notice, and for once hopes Austin actually does attribute it to embarrassment, instead of what it really is.

* * *

Bennett's mother works the Thursday of Thanksgiving, so Bennett's left alone in the house, sitting at the bar stool and staring at his cell phone placed on the counter top in front of him like an altar, waiting for Austin to call.

There's a traitorous little part of him that whispers that there won't be a call, that it's all a joke, that Austin didn't even ask or they didn't want him even if he did. He pushes that down, Austin bugged him enough to get him to go that Bennett doubts he'll bail.

He's got all day, set up for dinner with the Haroldes but stuck with only empty space stretching out before that. He doesn't think homework will work, the act too still to keep is mind from spinning outside of his task, so he decides on practising piano for a while. He sits at the bench, straightens up and shuffles his sheets around until he settles on a song, lets his fingers flow into a rhythm he's repeated to remembrance and his mind stay settled on the notes spread in front of him.

Bennett's cell rings in the middle of his pieces, and Bennett's kind of glad for the interruption, working on a piece that uses a ridiculous amount of his left hand. He's more than used to using both, working them separately, but even he gets tired of working his non-dominant hand so much after a while.

Just as Bennett thought it would, his phone's lit up with Austin's ID, and he answers with an easy "hello?" as he starts to shove his sheet music back into their designated folders. (Tchaikovsky's The Seasons always seems to end up somewhere in his jazz folder, and he has no idea how.)

"Hey, I'm here," Austin says, which surprises Bennett enough that he nearly jerks his arm and sweeps all of the sheets onto the floor.

He'd expected a little warning. He'd expected a call or text ahead of time where Austin told him he was on his way.

"I- Am I supposed to dress up?" Bennett blurts, before he realizes the words slipped out and he wants to hit himself in the forehead with the handheld.

Austin's laugh carries down the line, warm. "No, trust me, our Thanksgiving's far from the kind where you dress to impress."

Bennett wants to ask what exactly that means, if it's just going to be the base Haroldes family he's familiar with or if there's cousins and uncles and aunts hanging around too, but he's too afraid to ask. "Alright, just give me a second to clean everything up."

"What are you cleaning?" Austin asks, voice tinted with curiosity.

Bennett doesn't want to be pestered about piano, but he can't think of a lie, even if there really was a reason to. "My sheet music."

"Your sheet music," Austin echoes, sounding even more intrigued.

Bennett tries not to sink into himself and away from the topic. "Yeah. I told you I played piano before, right?"

Austin hums. "I think so. Things are pretty relaxed you know, I don't think my parents would mind if we were a bit late. Could I come in and hear you play?"

Bennett's heart jumps into his throat; this is part of why he wanted a  _warning_. "No."

Austin whines. "C'mon."

"No," Bennett repeats, distractedly tucking his phone in his neck, caught between his cheek and his shoulder, and putting his folders back into the stand beside the piano that's set for them. He thinks it was intended as a newspaper holder, a sturdy box shape with the top piece missing so he can get into it, pieces of wood slotted horizontally into it like a vertical shelf. He puts each folder into its place and straightens up to take the phone off his shoulder and back into his grip. "Besides, I'm ready, unless you're a straight up liar and I really was supposed to dress up."

Austin laughs again. "Swear you're not, Netter. Now head out here."

Bennett hangs up, puts on his shoes and swings on his jacket, and meets Austin out at the car.

* * *

Austin's grinning with Bennett opens the passenger door and hops in, and at least he really wasn't lying, dressed down in jeans and a henley that he has pushed to the elbows, one of which is resting on the edge of his closed window as he tilts his body towards Bennett and grins. He's got a leather cord necklace with beads strung on it, sitting just below the dip of his collarbones.

"Hey," he says. His teeth are white under chapped pink lips, and his hair is in less disarray then usual, falling easily over his forehead and sloping so that the ends hang just over his eyes. Bennett aches with something he can't name.

"Hey," he replies, as casual and effected calm as he can. He pulls his seatbelt over, and when Austin turns to back out of his driveway, arm thrown over the back of Bennett's seat as he looks out the back window, he studies the curve of Austin's jaw, the way his shoulders move wide and powerful into a neck made of sweeping angles and twists up to smooth into his jawline. Bennett can see the tendons creating lines and contrast on his neck, the slight bob of his Adam's Apple, and it seems a little inappropriate to be studying him so intently when Austin's focus is somewhere else entirely and he's made unaware, but it seems to be the only time Bennett's found the courage.

Austin reverses smoothly out onto the road, switching into drive and straightening out as he cruises down the road. They ride mostly in comfortable silence, nerves jumping somewhere inside Bennett's chest, but they're relatively gentle still so he isn't in a panic yet.

Austin's pulls up to his own house, slowing as he approaches and then turns into their driveway, stopping and then cutting the engine. They both stare at the house for a moment, soaking in the colour and the windows cutting light across the slowly darkening lawn. Austin glances over at him, head still turned to the house but eyes on Bennett, like a quick check up. "Ready?"

Bennett waits for a moment, taking in the house, thinking of Austin's sister grinning and his mother hugging Bennett and his father looking proud at his kids from over his glasses whenever they're not looking. He waits, and then he says, "Ready."

* * *

As soon as Austin opens the door and shoulders through, Jennifer pokes her head around the corner to show her head at the end of the hall. "Hey, it's the booty call."

Bennett starts to laugh at the same time as Austin says indignantly, "Gem!"

"What?"

"Oh, is Bennett here?" he hears Mrs. Haroldes call through he house.

"Yeah," Austin calls back, and to Bennett's hand he places a hand on the small of his back, guiding him down the hall.

When they get into the kitchen, Austin's mother looks up, wisps of blond hair falling out of her bun. She smiles when she sees them. "Ah, there you are. Hello dear, it's so nice to have you over."

"Thank you for taking me in," he says, and Austin snorts at his formality.

His mother ignores him. "It's a pleasure. You're welcome here any time," she says, and it's the kind of words that are a typical nicety, but there's a softness in her eyes that makes Bennett think she means it, even if it's more of a reflection on the type of people they are than how much they like Bennett. "Dinner's still a while yet, you boys can hang around until then."

"Thanks Mom," Austin says, and he gets his hand on the small of Bennett's back again, but instead of being gentle this time he's insistent, pushing Bennett towards the stairs and practically propelling him up by his hand alone.

Bennett remembers which room is Austin's whether because of the importance of it or brought up by circumstances, so he speeds up enough to lose the hand on his back and ducks into the room.

"There's this thing," Bennett says when Austin enters the room, "called asking. You might be familiar with it."

Austin snorts, crossing the room and dropping onto his bed, limbs splayed in all directions. "Yeah, but where would be the fun of irritating you while you try to stay polite for my mother?"

Bennett walks over and settles hesitantly next to Austin, sitting somewhere around his hips and tilted towards his head. "I should've guessed."

"I thought you were supposed to be a genius," he says, and then levers himself up on his elbows to meet Bennett's eyes. Bennett doesn't like it, feels pinned and far too closely examined, but he doesn't want to show cowardice and weakness by looking away.

Bennett tilts his head. "I thought you were intended to be the naturally brilliant one. I'm just the one that does everything."

A smirk tugs at the corner of Austin's mouth. "You say that like it's less impressive."

Bennett blinks at him in surprise.

"Come on," Austin goes on. "I have a damn good memory, but even I can't keep track of everything you do. I don't understand how you'd remember all of it, let alone do it."

Bennett pushes a chunk of his bangs behind his ear. "Thanks, I think."

Austin rolls his eyes. "Are you one of those people who can't take a compliment."

"Wasn't sure it was meant as one, coming from you."

Austin makes a considering noise. "Okay, fair, I guess. But you have to know I like you by now."

Bennett tilts his head. "Do you?"

Austin looks him in the eye, staring him down. A shiver runs down Bennett's spine, ice water eyes radiating cold into him and dumping into his veins. "I do. You're... interesting."

Bennett snorts, even though he feels shaken up inside. "Interesting. Great, I'm like your science experiment."

Austin sits up then, and when Bennett shifts to move back, Austin grabs his hip, anchoring him. Bennett could pull away if he wanted to still, but he hesitates. "Started that way. Thought it was easy to wind you up, but that you still didn't react the way I always expected. I wanted to figure you out."

Bennett swallows. "And now?" he says, voice softer than he wants it to be."

Austin reaches forward, tucks Bennett's hair behind his ear again, even though not much had fallen free. Lingers there, fingers pressing at the soft skin just below the hinge of his jaw. "I'm still figuring that out, a little."

When Austin leans forward, it's automatic for Bennett's eyes to shutter half mast, watching Austin's mouth. Bennett shuts them when Austin closes the distance, feeling the whisper of his lashes on the top of his cheeks, the soft press of lips, uncharacteristically chaste for them.

When they pull away, neither of them goes far, Austin's still hovering at Bennett's skin. They're sharing breath more than anything else, and Bennett feels calmed, warmth heavy crawling from his core and outwards.

"I'm glad you ended up coming over," Austin murmurs, and Bennett feels the fan of breath the words expel onto his face.

"Just to kiss me?" Bennett says back, and despite the teasing he has that same quiet in his tone, the moment wrapped in an intimacy he doesn't want to break.

Austin's lips twitches with a smile. "Not just for that, but it's certainly a bonus."

Bennett snorts, laughter spilling out, and Austin smiles and kisses it from his mouth.

"I meant it," he says.

"I know," Bennett replies, thumbing over the soft cotton of Austin's collar, faded from multiple washes and stretched a little. He can smell the detergent, both from his clothes and the bedding they're sitting on, and feel the heat of Austin's skin hovering on the backs of his fingers. He thinks for a moment, that this is what home is to Austin, and he was willing to share it with him.

* * *

Austin pulls Bennett down, and they lie side by side on his bed for most of the empty time they have to fill. Austin insists on showing Bennett some of his music, knowing Bennett doesn't really look in his own time, telling him that he has to at least find something he likes that's closer to their own age group. He pulls out an ipod, offering (manhandling) an earbud to Bennett, and he lies on top of Austin's bedding with the other boy pressed up against his side. Bennett must be making faces at most of the music, because when Austin turns to look at him and check how he feels about it, he laughs more often than not.

"I think you're wasting your time here," Bennett tells him.

Austin shrugs, and Bennett feels the movement against his own shoulder. "If you don't want to listen to my music, you could always play piano for me. Gem took lessons for a while, I know there's still an old keyboard tucked somewhere away in the house."

Bennett pulls an even stronger face, and Austin just laughs again.

"My music it is," he decides.

Austin's mom cracks the door open then, smiling when she seems them. Bennett's fervently thankful that the kissing didn't continue until she'd come to check on them. "Dinner's ready, boys."

"Alright," Austin says, sitting up and yanking Bennett's earbud out with the motion. Bennett scowls at him as he sits up and watches Austin pluck out the other one, but Austin doesn't seem bothered.

He turns and looks back at Bennett, nudging him in the side. "C'mon."

Bennett rolls his eyes. "Fine."

When he stands up, brushing himself off, he notices that Austin's mom is still standing in the doorway, beaming at them both.

"Um," Bennett starts.

"Sorry, it's nothing dear," she says, still smiling, and sweeps off down the hallway.

Bennett cuts his eyes at Austin. "Should I be concerned?"

Austin snorts, standing and stretching, arms above his head and back arched. Bennett's attention is caught for a second by the flash of tan skin Austin's ridden up t-shirt reveals, before he looks away. "You kidding me? She loves you."

Bennett looks back at Austin, surprised. "She's only met me a couple times."

Austin's arms drop, ending his stretch. "Yeah, well, apparently that's enough for her. She keeps talking about what a 'nice young man' you are and how you're 'such a good example'. It's nauseating, you'd think she was rhapsodising about her own kids."

"Oh." Bennett doesn't really know ow to reply to that.

Judging from the smugly amused smile tugging at Austin's mouth, he knows that. "Let's go down before Gem eats all the mashed potatoes."

Bennett follows him down the stairs, trailing, kind of wishing Austin had his hand at his back again and feeling pathetic for it. He got himself into this, and if Austin's right, they seem to like him.

Bennett doesn't know if that makes it better or worse.

* * *

Judging by the fact that the rest of the family's already sitting and that Austin doesn't hesitate as he strides towards the dining table, they have a set order of seating. Bennett hesitates as he comes closer, not sure where to sit.

"Sit wherever you like, dear," Austin's mother tells him, and Bennett can feel the slight flush at a his cheekbones, embarrassed at being so obvious. He sits in the empty seat next to Austin, across from Gem with an empty chair at his other side. The father's sitting at the head of the table, Austin and the mother on either side, so they fill five out of six seats.

"So Bennett," Mrs. Haroldes starts, nearly making Bennett jump out of his skin. "We don't usually say Grace in this family, but since it is thanksgiving and a time for being grateful, we will this time. You don't have to participate if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Um," Bennett says, completely unsure how to approach this.

Mrs. Haroldes smiles gently. "I can tell you're not enthusiastic. It's alright, we're not offended. We're generally not very religious."

Bennett watches with some discomfort as the rest of the family links hands, Austin reaching across the table to catch Jennifer's other hand. It makes Bennett feel out of place, an outsider sanctioned by the circle they've made. They don't take long, which is at least a relief, Mr. Haroldes giving a quick word on thanks for health, safety, family and friends and asking God to let them put this food to their bodies use. When they all say 'amen', Bennett feels weirdly intrusive of a private moment, even if he was invited.

Austin turns to him after, when the rest of the family is distracted passing dishes around. "You alright?"

Bennett nods. "Yeah, just... never really been very religious." Both his parents brought their parts, his father being raised in a Presbyterian home and his mother carrying her parents' and country's common mixture of Shinto and Buddhist beliefs. He's never felt entirely at home with either, though after the divorce he's settled and gotten more comfortable with his mother's faith, even if he's not sure it's his own in all the ways she believes in it.

"Sorry," Austin offers, hand dropping onto Bennett's knee.

Bennett shrugs. "Don't worry about it."

Bennett jolts when he feels a sharp kick under the table, glancing up and catching Jennifer shoving the bowl of mashed potatoes in his direction. "Can you two stop flirting long enough to eat?"

Austin snorts, but Bennett can feel the immediate rush of heat into his cheeks. He takes the bowl, ducking his head as he dishes it out onto his plate. Austin's hand squeezes his knee, and Bennett guesses it's meant to be comforting, but it just makes the blush firmer.

"Jennifer, don't make Benny uncomfortable," Mrs. Haroldes scolds her.

"Bennett," he cuts in without thinking, feeling worse about it when the entire family glances his way, "just Bennett, please."

Mrs. Haroldes nods accommodatingly. "Of course, I should have asked."

"I hate the nickname Jen," Jennifer chimes in. "It makes me sound old. But you don't like Benny. So we can't be Ben and Jen or Benny and Jenny."

Austin snorts as surreptitiously as possible into his napkin. Bennett doesn't miss it.

"No, we can't," Bennett replies easily.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters, Bennett?" Mr. Haroldes asks.

"No," he replies, thinking of how vacant his house feels at the best of times.

"You mentioned your parents were divorced? No step-siblings either?"

"No," Bennett says, shorter. Austin casts him a gauging look, and his father drops the topic.

"I know you worked on a project with Austin, do you like school?"

Bennett relaxes minimally, used to this line of questioning. He's gone through the routine a thousand times with the clients his mother's trying to impress at parties or private dinners, can practically list of all of it but also knows how to spin it out into a conversation: favourite class, highest mark, how he feels about teachers, if he likes his school, his extracurriculars, what he's thinking about doing after he graduates and what colleges he's looking at. Mr. Haroldes isn't much different than the stiffer adults Bennett regularly has this kind of conversation with, and it flows easily from there, including what classes he shares with Austin and what he thinks of their teachers too. Jennifer does her best to comment wherever she can, complaining and complimenting teachers, deciding that if she goes to their school she's going to play basketball and be as far away from debate team as possible.

While the topic deviates, it doesn't leave Bennett either stranded or under pressure, and so the conversation carries them through dinner. Bennett goes to get up when he finishes his plate, but Mrs. Haroldes ushers him to sit back down, taking his plate from him and heading towards the kitchen with it. Bennett sits hesitantly, still kind of hovering on the edge of his seat, unused to the attention. He doesn't settle until Austin finishes and lets his hand, now free, settle back onto Bennett's knee, keeping him grounded with gentle pressure.

Mrs. Haroldes wanders back in then, tucking a flyaway piece of blond hair behind her ear. "Would you like some dessert, dear?" she asks, eyes fixed on Bennett.

"I finished dinner too, you know," Austin says to her, expression faked sullenness.

Mrs. Haroldes doesn't even blink. "And you're not the guest, so you can shut your trap."

Bennett tries to smother his smile, but doesn't quite succeed. "Dessert would be lovely, thank you."

"' _Lovely_ '," Austin mocks under his breath, laughter in his voice. Bennett elbows him in the side without looking. Mrs. Haroldes looks delighted at this progression of events.

" _Now_  you can ask, darling," She says, looking at Austin with amusement twinkling her eyes. "Guests, then family."

"I'd love some," Mr. Haroldes tells her, looking like this kind of interaction is commonplace.

"Me too," Jennifer chimes.

Austin rolls his eyes at all of them. "Yes, please."

"See, was that so hard?" Mrs. Haroldes says, nearly smirking as she turns and heads back into the kitchen.

Austin slumps in his seat when she disappears. Bennett tries not to laugh at him.

"I know you think this is funny," Austin says out of the corner of his mouth.

Bennett can't help but smile then.

"Quit smiling," Austin says, and Bennett smiles wider. Austin turns his head and aims narrowed eyes at him. He snatches his hand off of Bennett's knee, looking petulant, and Bennett actually does laugh at him then.

"Dessert," Mrs. Haroldes calls, and Bennett turns his head to see her standing in the doorway, somehow managing to carry five plates in two hands (Bennett realizes he should have offered to help carry them, but guesses he would have been turned down anyways.), looking straight at Bennett and Austin and beaming. Bennett flushes slightly again, but doesn't say anything, choosing to hope that if he ignores it she'll let it go.

She does, thankfully. "Here you go," she says, setting the smaller dessert plates in front of them. It turns out to be slices of apple pie, small scoops of ice cream set next to them.

"Did you make this?" Bennett asks in surprise, the words out before he can catch hold of them.

Mrs. Haroldes smile kicks up again, revived by Bennett's words, thankfully. "I did."

He waits until Mrs. Haroldes has sat down again, everyone digging in around him, and then he takes a bite. It's good, the pie still warm and the ice cream a contrasting bite of cold, and he can't remember the last time he had true American apple pie, let alone home made.

The plates clear quickly, and Mrs. Haroldes looks pleased at this, happily weeping them up into a stack when everyone finishes. "How was dinner, Bennett?"

Bennett tries to hold in his surprise at being dressed directly. "Good."

"I'm glad," she says, smiling, and sweeps everyone. Everyone starts to get up too, and Bennett scrambles to his feet, trying to keep up.

"Did you want to go upstairs?" Austin says, low, hand coming to rest on the small of Bennett's back.

Bennett hesitates, thinking of being in Austin's room, isolated from everyone else and wrapped in the warmth and intimacy of Austin's private space, having no excuse to get out if he feels overwhelmed. "I should probably go home," he says, awkward.

Austin frowns. "You sure?"

The hand on Bennett's back is warm. The house feels full, the air in the room still caught with trailing remnants of the smell of dinner and dessert, the family so at ease and loving with each other.

Bennett feels sharply that he doesn't belong in this kind of space.

"Yes," he says.

"Okay," Austin says, still looking put off. "Let me get my keys."

Bennett wanders into the entryway area after Austin as he lopes over to the keyring on the wall. He stands there, stalling, staring carpet and the family pictures strung up along hallway.

"Are you leaving, dear?" he hears from behind him, and jumps, whirling around to see Mrs. Haroldes standing at the mouth of the hall.

"Yes." He chokes out.

She smiles, but it looks sad. Bennett feels uncomfortably like he's being pitied, or if not that, at least that she's sad for him. "It was nice having you."

He tucks his hair behind his ear, realizing that he hadn't even intended to say goodbye, content to duck out without anyone besides Austin having to take notice. "Thank you for dinner. I know Thanksgiving's usually a family occasion."

"You're welcome any time."

Bennett tries to smile, but he thinks it only makes it halfway, and even that feels forced and fake.

"C'mon," Austin says, appearing at his side, pressing at Bennett's side to get him to turn towards the door.

"Goodbye," he tells Mrs. Haroldes.

Mrs. Haroldes' melancholy smile stays. "Bye, dear."

When he gets out of the house and into the car, he thinks it might be one of the few times where being alone with Haroldes causes a feeling of relief over anything else.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bennett can feel tension spill into his veins immediately, straightening his spine as his heart beats wild with anxiety. He jumps to his feet, hoping it's just hard to see the shape of a person under the covers in the dark, but when he gets closer he's sure that no one's there.
> 
> He feels sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, so just so you know, I'm aware that most of the actual academic protocol in this (how debates work, how spelling bees work, etc) is completely and totally off base, but I'm twisting it a lot to work with the story? So if it really bothers you, you can pretend their school district is extremely bizarre or it's just the size of the kids in the clubs that requires things to be like that or something. Just so you're aware that this isn't actually how things would work in real life.
> 
> Also, I'm really, really sorry this is so late. I got swallowed up in uni work. It seemed like everything went from midterms to papers to finals so fast I only had enough free time to decompress from it and none left to write. But now I'm free! At least until things possibly pile up next semester, but I'm not about to curse myself before it starts.

Since it's officially December, it seems like the entire country has decided to gear up into Christmas mode - shows, advertising, and the school covered in holiday decoration.

"What the fuck?" Luc mutters as he walks up. He looks a little alarmed.

Cooper glances at him. For once they didn't actually show up together, as their creepy codependency tends to head towards. "What, Christmas isn't as big in Canada?"

Luc seems to focus better then, even if he still looks a little wide around the eyes. "No, it definitely is, it's just that I grew up in a pretty Catholic town? So it's like, fucking nativity scenes and shit fucking everywhere."

Cooper squints at him. "I think that's the least like a Christian boy I've ever heard you sound."

Luc hits him.

"Ow!" Cooper cries, rubbing his arm, but Luc just rolls his eyes.

"It'll be over before you know it," Alison says, tucking some strands of hair behind her ear.

Luc looks sour. "Do they have to start so early? We have like, a whole month. We're closer to regionals that anything."

Jasmine claps him on the shoulder companionably. "Commercial holidays, man. Just feel good that you actually celebrate it."

Luc rubs a hand over his eyes. "I can only imagine."

"Do you guys want anything?" Bridget asks, looking over them with wide, innocent eyes, trying to make it seem like a casual question and utterly failing.

"No, thank you," Bennett tells her, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in for a quick side hug.

Bridget beams at him. "Sure?"

Bennett rolls his eyes. "Sure," he says as his arm slips off.

When Bennett looks up, Austin's pouting at them. "How come you don't hug me?"

Bennett narrows his eyes at him. "Is that a serious question?"

If possible, Austin pouts harder. "Of course it is! I'm hurt, Ben-Ben."

"And I'm leaving," Bennett says flatly, turning and walking away, Austin catching up quickly and sticking at his heels as he complains.

* * *

 

There's maybe another two weeks, caught up in homework and club meetings, and suddenly a whole slew of different regionals and qualifiers are on them.

It starts with Mathletes, Bennett sitting there and listening as they wait at their lockers until the bus is ready to leave, the rest of the group standing around before class.

"We're going to fucking wreck it, Ben-Ben," she tells him, and Bennett rolls his eyes and shoves at her shoulder.

"Bennett, you cretin," he tells her, and she waves him off.

They do bulldoze the competition, but Bennett's under no illusions that they possibly could've made it there without Jasmine.

The debate regionals is right on its tail, so the whole club treks out to the bus that's taking them cross state for the competition. They leave on a Sunday, so the school is quiet, and Bennett's not bothered by it, there often enough for student council and other obligations, but Austin's looking around with a put off look on his face.

Bennett rolls his eyes at him and bumps him lightly on the shoulder. "It's not a ghost town, you know."

Austin looks at him with suspicious eyes. "It  _could_  be."

Bennett can't keep himself from snorting, and Austin knocks him in the shoulder hard enough that he nearly stumbles into the locker bank.

They all climb onto the bus, and Ms. Pursbury is practically bouncing with excitement, wandering up and down the aisle even as the bus starts to move, beaming at all of them. They all end up in different benches, but ten minutes into the trip Luc and Cooper get into a fight over travel snacks and Luc comes up to sit behind him. Austin apparently doesn't want to be left out, because he comes down the aisle, and Bennett watches him with wary eyes that turn out to be confirmed, because Austin doesn't even pause before he crawls onto Bennett's seat and sprawls across his lap without preamble.

Bennett shoves at his shoulder. "I'm not a bed, asshole."

Austin grunts, but he only rocks minimally with Bennett's shove and then rolls back, burying his face into Bennett's thigh. Bennett sighs and gives up.

Luc pops his head over the seat. "Should I start recording the great bus war of 2014?"

Bennett pinches his nose between two fingers. "Pretty sure this would be a really disappointing war, then."

Luc makes a noise of agreement, layering his arms across the back of Bennett's seat so he can see.

Cooper evidently feels left out, because without any warning he's dropping into the seat in front of Bennett, mirroring Luc's pose on the back of his own seat. "Hello gentlemen."

Luc throws him a middle finger. "Green candy traitor."

Cooper salutes him. "Evidently, commodore."

Bennett rolls his eyes and wonders how this became his life.

They get assigned room mates when they get to Chicago, and Bennett's grateful he ends up with Luc and guilty for it. He expected Luc and Cooper to be disappointed, but instead Luc looks relieved too, and the two of them head into their room and pick beds. Luc's happy to have the bed closer to the door, and Bennett's glad, getting the back of the room to himself, his own space that Luc has no reason to cross.

They're let loose to have dinner themselves and check out the city, and Bennett, Luc, Austin and Cooper all round together to check it out as a group. Luc's practically bouncing with excitement, this close to the Great Lakes, even if Lake Michigan is more American than Canadian.

"What do you think?" Cooper asks, hands tucked in his pockets as he surveys the buildings around them, slowly lighting up as the sky darkens.

Austin shrugs. "I'd rather not go that far. Save the sight seeing for later."

Luc squints at him. "Is there even that much to see in Chicago?"

Cooper swats at him. "You are partially American you know," he tells him, "so the act of always pushing your Canadian part is kind of overdone."

Luc shrugs. "Grew up there, even if I've got dual citizenship. I've always felt of there as my home country more than here."

Cooper frowns at him, but it's not all annoyed, there seems to be a bit of contemplation and wistfulness in it. Luc's still looking around at the buildings surrounding them, so he doesn't notice.

"Pizza?" Austin suggests, and they all agree.

They find the nearest pizza place, and the workers must be able to tell they're tourists by the startled look in their eyes over the wind chill biting their cheeks pink. The hostess comes up to them, politely trying to keep the amusement out of her smile, but she doesn't quite succeed.

They get shunted to a booth in the the back, likely because the hostess doesn't trust a group of teenage boys to be quiet in the middle of the restaurant, and rightfully so. Luc and Cooper pile into one side together immediately, and so Bennett sits down hesitantly with Austin beside him. Austin must sense his nerves, in one capacity or another, because he settles a hand onto Bennett's knee for just a brief moment, long enough for Bennett to be sure it was intentional rather than just a brush but short enough not to linger and make him feel trapped beneath the hand.

"I'm feeling meat lover's," Cooper says, and Luc turns to him and wrinkles his nose up.

"How am I friends with you?" Luc says flatly, and Cooper feigns hurt, pressing a hand to his chest and looking offended.

"Luc, my dear, how could you do this to me?"

Luc's expression doesn't waver. "Because your taste in food is absolute shit."

Cooper snorts. "You don't appreciate the finer things."

Luc rolls his eyes. "Meat pizza and green candy. I'll keep that in mind."

"Compromise on pepperoni?" Austin offers, bracing his arms on the table.

Cooper looks at him with vague judgement. "That's so boring."

"Yeah, well, it's not about to start the War of 1812: High School Version."

Bennett snorts a laugh and tries to hide it in the napkin he'd picked up to fold in his lap, but Luc's looking straight at him, so Bennett doubts it slid by.

Austin's eyebrow hitches just a little higher, challenging. Bennett tries to tell himself he doesn't find it attractive.

He wonders when Austin's sardonic expressions became appealing rather than aggravating.

"Two pizzas. We can decide between two different types. Does that work for you?" Austin directs them, and his voice drops into a mocking version of his usual tone on the last question.

Cooper narrows his eyes at him. "Yes."

"Brilliant," Austin says, clipped, and then flips his menu open like a noble Victorian lady with a fan.

They end up deciding on a Hawaiian and a Greek pizza, and Luc comments on none of them being either, which leads to Cooper attempting what Bennett guesses is a terrible, terrible Greek accent. He's not sure, since he doesn't speak or know anyone Greek, but he has a lot of confidence in it not being very good, considering the way Luc's face twists whenever Cooper attempts to speak French.

Austin shakes his head at him. "I think you're insulting the entire country of Greece."

Cooper shrugs. "What they don't know can't hurt them."

Luc adds in dryly, "Yeah, well, your horrific accent is hurting me."

Cooper gasps, pressing a hand to his chest in shock and feigned hurt.

Luc rolls his eyes.

Bennett can feel himself settling, the itch beneath his skin smoothing out. Before he knows it he's smiling at the tale of Cooper complaining about the way Luc always hops up to walk on the railing of the foot bridge they frequent at the local park. Luc's right there, arguing back that he can keep his balance and that he does it all the time, which seems to make Cooper even more agitated. Austin's laughing at them, no attempt to hide it from either of them, and Cooper shoots him a vaguely irritated look, but it mostly seems to be feigned.

Bennett feels somewhere in peace at last, but even though he can feel the tension seeping out, not all of it will leave, a strange jitter staying as he gets the feeling he's only waiting in the eye of a hurricane.

A shivering, familiar voice carries over suddenly, "Fancy meeting you here, boys."

Bennett can feel himself locking up, even before he turns his head up and around to meet Brian Harding eyes.

Bennett plasters on a polite smile. "I could say the same to you."

Brian smiles back, just as much painted on civility. "Fair enough."

The boy Brian had partnered with during their debate wanders up behind Brian, hovering just over his shoulder. He sneers when he sees them. "Oh, it's them."

Bennett bristles, and Austin doesn't physically, but the look on his face hardens by increments Bennett wouldn't be able to see if he didn't know him. "Tolkien, was it?" he says, drawling. Bennett nearly snorts a laugh, remembering the way Austin had butchered his own name to pull a reaction.

The boy's reaction is a lot quicker and more visceral, and he steps forward, eyes flashing and fists balling, as he snaps, "It's Trevor."

"The toad from Harry Potter," Luc muses. "Fitting."

Trevor snarls at him. "Shut up."

"We're trying to have a nice dinner, and you're kind of ruining the atmosphere, so if you could please leave," Cooper says, tone casual even though Bennett can hear the thread of tension through it, Cooper acting dismissive by reaching out to detract another slice of pizza from the tray in front of them.

Trevor's expression shifts, teething baring, a mean twist to his face that makes Bennett dread the words that come next. His eyes are dark as his voice drops to a low, dangerous hiss to tell Cooper, "Why don't you go back to the rez?"

Luc's on his feet in the next instant, but Austin's just as fast, up right after him and locking his arms across his chest to keep him from leaping at Trevor. Trevor sneers back, pleased in a way that makes Bennett sick, a look on his face like the little boys who burn bugs with magnifying glasses for fun.

"Trevor," Brian says, and for a moment Bennett doesn't think he's going to do anything in response, but then Trevor does step back, and the tension doesn't completely go away but it does ease, whooshing out in one huge breath.

Trevor shoots them one last look before he turns and leaves, and Brian's eyes linger over them for a moment, looking like he wants to apologize for propriety's sake even if he doesn't want to apologize  _to_  them. In the end he settles for saying, "We'll eat somewhere else."

Luc's still breathing hard when the door closes behind them, and Austin has to jostle him to get him to take his eyes off the door, attention drawn back into the restaurant. Slowly, Austin releases his grip, watching Luc carefully to see if he'll bolt, but all Luc does is rotate one shoulder, so in the end Austin settles back into the seat beside him with strung tension, waiting to spring back up if he needs to.

Cooper's focused on Luc, jaw tight and eyes bright with emotion - maybe anger, maybe offence, maybe something else. "I don't need you to play knight in shining armour."

Luc shoots Cooper an annoyed look over his shoulder. "I was closer, and I certainly wasn't about to let him get away with saying that shit."

Cooper's mouth is a thin line. "I didn't ask you to do that."

"You don't have to!" Luc explodes, throwing his arms out, and Austin shifts beside Bennett, looking like he's about to get up again, but Bennett lays a hand just above his knee and presses him down, both a calming motion and a grounding one. Austin settles slightly, and even with the argument waiting to spark between Luc and Cooper, Bennett feels this strange sense of calm and control and relief at Austin trusting him, listening to him, and not everyone and everything spinning out of reach.

"I'm your best friend," Luc continues, voice dropped, eyes intent on Cooper. It doesn't feel like the volume change is because they're starting to draw attention so much as it is because he's speaking directly to Cooper, and Bennett feels uncomfortably intruding, but he can't back out now, knowing they could launch at each other any moment. "I jumped up because I care about you, because I  _want_  to defend you and take care of you. It's not something you have to ask me to do. Because you matter to me and when he hurts you it hurts me too."

Cooper gets up, throwing his napkin down on the table. "Yeah, well, he wasn't talking to you. And I didn't ask you to defend or take care of me, because I can do it myself."

Cooper walks out of the restaurant, leaving silence in his wake.

All the anger Luc seemed to be holding in him even after the Jefferson boys left drains out of him then, and he wilts in front of Bennett's eyes, looking empty and tired. Bennett nudges Austin's side then, and Austin slides out easily to let Bennett out, and he loops an arm over Luc's shoulders and guides him to sit back down on the bench.

"It'll be okay," Bennett tells him, looking up to meet Austin's eyes and willing it to be true.

* * *

 They're quiet when they get back to the hotel, and they split up into their different rooms, though Austin hesitates by his own door across the hall when Bennett heads into his with Luc.

"We'll be fine," he says, quiet, though he feels a little warmed by Austin's concern.

Austin doesn't look that comforted, but he can't argue it now.

Bennett glances over his shoulder to check that Luc's in their room and looking suitably distracted. He turns back to Austin then, lowering his voice to request, "Text me to say if Cooper's in there or not, okay?"

Austin does nod at that, and somehow he looks more at ease having something to do.

Bennett disappears into the room then, and he doesn't like watching the door close, cutting him off. Normally he enjoys having less people around, but now he feels like he's left on his own without a chance of reinforcements.

Bennett's exhausted, more emotionally than physically, and half of that's just expectation of what's to come. Luc turns on the TV, and Bennett settles and pays half his attention to him for long enough to figure that Luc's doing okay without supervision. Then he slowly lets himself drift off.

By the time he wakes up again, he's lying on the bedspread fully clothed, but the room is dark. It takes him a few groggy, disoriented seconds to figure out why.

He sits up then, rubbing at his eyes, and resolves himself for getting ready for bed in a little bit of a belated fashion, but when he glances over at the other bed for just a cursory look, it turns out to be empty.

Bennett can feel tension spill into his veins immediately, straightening his spine as his heart beats wild with anxiety. He jumps to his feet, hoping it's just hard to see the shape of a person under the covers in the dark, but when he gets closer he's sure that no one's there.

He feels sick.

He checks the rest of the room, hoping while knowing he'll be wrong that Luc might've just fallen asleep in the chair in the corner or is just sitting in the bathroom because he didn't want to keep Bennett up.

After a thorough check of the room and a deep sinking feeling, he knows for sure the room is empty.

* * *

 

Bennett checks all the public areas of the hotel, going to the obvious areas like the lobby first before ducking through hallways, hoping that Luc might just be sitting in a small alcove to catch some quiet. In the end, after scouring all of the hotel and its surrounding lot, he can't find anything.

He feels helpless and off-kilter, and heads back up his floor, trying to calm himself and feeling like it's fruitless.

He stops in front of his door, but then turns slowly, staring at the one across from it and he knows he shouldn't push it more, try harder just to get more wound, but he can't leave it here. He takes a few more steps and walks up to knock on the door, unsure if he really wants someone to answer or not. Hoping if someone does, it won't be Cooper, and knowing that when he tells himself it's because he'd be worse for Luc, he's lying to himself.

After a couple sets of raps, Austin opens the door, eyes sleep heavy and hair mussed, his brow scrunched in confusion against the light spilling in from the hallway. "Bennett?"

Bennett feels his heart beat faster at the sound of his name in Austin's mouth, sleep heavy and soft. Which is entirely inappropriate for the circumstances.

"Austin," he says, and Austin must be able to sense something in either his voice or face, because he straightens, alertness beginning to show in his expression and eyes.

"Is something wrong?" he asks, concerned. He swipes his bangs off his forehead, looking critically down at Bennett.

"I can't find Luc," he blurts.

Austin blinks, and he glances over his shoulder for a second before turning back to Bennett. "He's gone?"

Bennett nods, feeling his throat close up.

"Wait here," Austin says, low, before he ducks back into the room and lets the door shut behind him. Bennett wraps his arms around himself in the draft of the hotel hallway.

He's the leader of them, both officially through Scholastic Club, and unofficially. And he failed them. He  _knew_  Luc was in a bad place, and he just let himself nap and slack off, and now someone else could be paying for it. Luc could be in trouble because of Bennett's fuck up, because he wasn't there for him.

The door opens again, and Bennett glances up, unaware that he'd been staring at the carpet as he rubs his hands along his arms. He only gets a flash of Austin's face, the door clicking shut behind him, and then there's suddenly something blue covering his vision, the weight of something draping over his head.

"What?" Bennett says, clawing it off, only to come up with a blue hoodie in his hands. He looks up to see that Austin's slipped on shoes and a pair of sweatpants onto the t-shirt and boxers he answered the door in, a dark coat around his shoulder made out of what could be leather. Bennett blinks up at him.

"You were running around without a jacket," Austin says. "You looked freezing, so you're going to wear my hoodie whether you like it or not, or there's no way I'm scouring the entire city at night looking for Luc."

Bennett's suddenly incredibly grateful, though he doesn't know how to word it even if he wouldn't get swallowed in a wash of embarrassment. He slips on the hoodie and zips it up, feeling how it's too large and the sleeves slip passed his hands, but still worn soft from multiple washes. It feels comforting in a way.

He looks up at Austin and nods. Austin follows him down the hallway towards the elevators.

* * *

 

They cruise through different bus routes, and Bennett at first is just worried about covering enough territory, but then the panicking thought comes in that Luc might be inside somewhere where there isn't an easy window to peer through, and his worry panics up into his throat.

Austin seems to be gaining the ability to read Bennett, because he lays a hand on Bennett's knee, comforting him in a way that isn't overtly obvious to the sparse passengers around them. Bennett's grateful, and he tries to breath, let the hand push him into his seat and keep him from drifting away in his own churning thoughts.

They do eventually find Luc, though it takes somewhere close to three hours. Bennett sees him first, and at first he thinks it's a trick of the light, throat seizing up tight with worry and hope, and he twists in his seat and nearly leans full across Austin to take a second look.

"Austin," he says, voice tight and nearly breaking with the hope he feels, and Austin seems to know just by that, because he triggers the signal for the bus to stop at the next bus stop.

They stumble off, and as soon as he's on the pavement he's rushing back, and he can feel all of the emotions of the night come crashing onto him as soon as he sees the boy sitting on the sidewalk and knows that it really is Luc.

He doesn't have to say anything then to grab his attention, Luc looks up at the sound of their footsteps when their shoes come into his vision. With his head tilted up, Bennett can clearly see the neck of the bottle clutched loosely between his fingers, and he feels sick and ashamed of himself.

"It's not beer," Luc says quickly, obviously reading Bennett's face before he drops his eyes down again. "It's just soda."

Bennett relaxes minimally, but he still has Luc to deal with. "I'm relieved," he says, kneeling in front of Luc, who looks back up at him with startled eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Luc says, instead of addressing his surprise.

"Came looking for you, Frenchie," Austin says from over Bennett's shoulder.

"I'm Canadian, not French."

"You speak French."

Bennett rolls his eyes - mostly at Austin, even though he can't see it. "Anyway, whatever you are, we came to find you."

Austin hums, and Bennett gets the feeling that he wants to argue that Bennett had been the one to drag him out here looking, but thankfully he doesn't say anything.

"Come on," Bennett says, holding a hand out to Luc.

Luc lips compress together, and he glances down again.

"Luc?" he prompts.

"I'm not going back," Luc whispers. "Not yet."

Bennett frowns and then lets out a long sigh, dropping his arms onto his knees.

"I'm sorry about the competition," Luc says.

Bennett can feel the pang in his chest that Luc thinks so little of him, that he only cares about and would try to find him because of a  _competition_ , but this isn't about him, so he plays it off by rolling his eyes and settles to sit next to Luc. "You can go back, Austin. I'm going to stay until he's ready to go."

Austin doesn't move, but his eyes are dancing, so Bennett knows he's aware of what he's trying to do.

Luc lifts his head and turns to stare at Bennett. "What? But - You'll miss the competition."

Bennett meets his eyes. "It's not the end of the world."

Luc looks bewildered at that. "It's okay, Ben," he tries to assure him.

Bennett rolls his eyes again. "I'm not just leaving you here."

"But -"

"Look, Luc. I know I might not..." He pauses, hesitating over what he's trying to say, and decides that if Luc's in a bad enough place to go wandering around a foreign town, he deserves honesty from Bennett. He deserves a little more baring and vulnerability, even if Bennett's not very good at it. "I'm not a good friend. I don't show much besides what I care about school, but I do care about you guys. You're more important."

"Aw," Austin says, and Bennett looks over his shoulder to glare at him.

"Okay," Luc says, and Bennett stands up and brushes his pants off. He steps back, and when he offers a hand down, Austin steps up and does the same, though when Bennett looks at him in surprise his face is completely serious.

They haul Luc up onto his feet together.

Luc runs his hands through his hair. "How did you two get here, anyway?"

Austin rolls his eyes. "I could ask you the same thing."

"We took the bus," Bennett says, ignoring Austin. He feels significantly more calmed now that they've found Luc.

Luc blinks at them. "But how did you know where I was?"

Bennett's silent, and it stretches taught between them for a moment before Austin says, "We didn't."

Luc gapes at them. "But- I'm - That must have taken forever."

Austin hooks a thumb over towards Bennett. "I seriously doubt he was about to just drop it if it took too long. He was pretty much vibrating with worry."

Bennett swats Austin on the shoulder.

"No seriously," Austin says, looking at Bennett now instead of Luc. "You worry more than most mothers I know."

Luc shrugs. "I think he's been the mother of the group for longer than any of us have even been aware that we were a group."

Bennett alternates his glare between them. "Well apparently all of you need someone managing you all, and if you take that to be motherly I guess that just shows how childish you are."

Austin grins, and Luc smiles a little too, hesitantly tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Anyway," Austin says, fishing his phone out of his pocket. "Let's see if we can actually find a way back."

Bennett kind of wants to get into Austin's space and make sure that he's getting the addresses right and everything, but that feels too much like the kind of hovering they're making fun of him for. That, and the thought of getting close enough to feel the dim filtering heat of Austin's body through the cool, empty night air feels uncomfortably close to something like intimacy.

Austin's clacking away and the keys of his phone, and he's focused enough that he's not really paying any mind to either he or Luc standing around. Luc doesn't seem to know what to do with the silence, finishing off his soda and fiddling with the cap after, twisting it on and off. Bennett feels like he's supposed to say something, supposed to soothe him, but he already feels exhausted and raw from staying out all night to find Luc and trying to prove that he really does care about  _Luc_  enough to get him to come back. He's on student council, on debate club, but those are all polished, pretty, prepared words, and he's lived all his life struggling to find the words when he has emotion and investment packed inside them.

"Okay," Austin says, and Luc nearly jumps with the break in strung silence, "so there should another bus like two blocks from here in about fifteen minutes."

He thumbs his phone locked, tucking it in his jacket pocket, and when he looks up at them he rolls his eyes at the way they're standing stilted and apart, stealing Luc's bottle from him to throw in the trash and then ushering them both in what Bennett presumes to be the right direction. He doesn't like the assumption of control and leadership from Austin, but he's too tired to protest, and he wonders if maybe that's why Austin's taking over now when Bennett been leading the change all night. Maybe his anticipation kept him up, maybe adrenaline or something along those lines, and now that they've found Luc it's slowly drained out of him to leave him unable to feel much more than tired.

They only have to wait a couple minutes before the bus pulls up to their stop, and then they're climbing on. The rest of the bus is empty, and they end up sitting at the back, Bennett sitting beside Austin closer to the aisle while Luc sits in front of them.

Now, sitting still, warm instead of out in chilly night air with Luc safe, tucked against Austin's side in a way he maybe won't let himself if he was less drowsy, it only takes a couple blocks before the way the energy draining out of Bennett's body drags his consciousness down with it. He falls asleep on Austin's shoulder, streetlights blurring by outside the windows and the dim sound of Luc and Austin's soothing voices reaching through to his mind without leaving any meaning from them.

* * *

 

Bennett wakes to gentle hands shaking at his shoulders, eyes fluttering open ad blinking blearily into the filtered bus lights.

"We're back," Austin says, voice lowered and speaking only to Bennett despite Luc sitting in front of them and turning away, looking flustered. Bennett remembers the night then, sitting up straight as he realizes he'd been leaning onto Austin, having fallen asleep then. He feels chilled without the line of heat along his side, but they have to get up even Bennett didn't feel the crawl of embarrassment under his skin, yet still feeling contented by the lingering feeling of wrapped, assured safety. He doesn't know how to feel about it, so in the end he just gets up on sleepy legs like that of a colt beginning to stand, stumbling off the bus and onto the sidewalk in front of the hotel with Luc ad Austin behind him.

He rubs his eyes, suppressing a yawn. "We should head up."

Luc nods and they all file in, standing in the elevator. Bennett's trying not to list to one side; he's never been the type to wake up all at once and the sleep he'd had on the bus is sticking with him.

They walk down to their rooms together, but Austin doesn't disappear into his immediately, he just stares them both down and gives Luc a serious, appraising look. "Can I trust you to get him to your room? Not to go off and have him chasing after you all night again?"

Bennett immediately bristles, not liking the accusation that he can't take care of himself, that Luc can't be trusted either, but Luc easily responds to Austin's words with a "Yes," that has no hint of offence and upset in the words.

Austin takes that in, nodding. He flicks one last look over Bennett, and then he turns and disappears into his own room.

"Come on," Bennett says, ushering Luc into their room, and Luc goes with easily with it.

Luc gets ready for bed, and Bennett watches with hawk eyes as he gets ready alongside him, and Luc notices and seems somewhat flustered but he goes along with it.

Bennett's sitting on his bed, waiting for Luc to fall asleep and feeling too wound to try to sleep until he's out, though Luc seems to be going along with it to keep Bennett comforted. He tries to read for a minute, but he feels too restless, so he just sits on the hotel bedspread, rubbing his hands slowly over the material of his jeans stretched over his thighs.

His eyes catch on the worn material of his sleeve, and only when he looks a little closer does he realize he's still wearing Austin's hoodie, slightly too large and sitting midway down his palms.

He freezes then, and the room is quiet, nothing but the sound of the air conditioning humming and Luc's steadying breaths. He lets out a shaky exhale, rubs his hands over his face, and then gets up to unzip it and and get changed for bed.

* * *

 

When Bennett wakes up, the hotel wake up call blaring, he feels exhausted and groggy enough that he's tempted to drag the pillow over his head and groan his way back into unconsciousness.

Unfortunately, he was raised to be responsible, so he gets up and answers with a groggy "Hello?"

"Hello sir, we called because you asked for an eight o' clock wake up call?"

"Yeah, thanks," he says, scrubbing his hands over his face, and is relieved to hear the hotel attendant hang up. He has a bit more time before he has to act like a complete, composed person.

He hears a groan from the other side of the room, and looks over to see Luc with his head buried under his pillow.

"What time is it?" he groans, heavily muffled through the fabric.

Bennett scrubs a hand over his hair. "Eight."

Luc groans, sounding even more pained.

"I'm going to take a shower, I'll get you up after," he allows, and Luc just rolls away and burrows further into the covers.

* * *

 

When they make it down to the breakfast hall for the continental breakfast offered, most of the team is already there, including Austin, who's his head on his folded arms on the table.

Cooper's watching him, looking a mixture of concerned and amused.

"Morning," Bennett says, tiredness seeping into his voice, and he's worried about Luc but all he does is yawn from over Bennett's shoulder and slump into the closest seat at the table, leaving a space between both him and Austin on one side and him and Cooper on the other.

Bennett takes the seat between Luc and Cooper, leaving them a disconnected circle. Cooper's lips tighten for a moment as he glances at the space between him and Luc, but he gets over it, glancing over the three of them. "Why is it you all look exhausted? Am I the only one who can sleep before competitions and never realized?"

"Something like that," Bennett says, wry.

"How are you coherent," Austin grumbles, muffled through his arms, not so much a question as a complaint.

Bennett rolls his eyes. "You want me to get you coffee?"

Austin raises his head, eyes serious on Bennett. "You are more than we deserve."

Bennett snorts, but he gets up, heading over to the buffet table.

* * *

 

They go through a couple rounds of debate over that weekend, but don't end up qualifying. It's not solely the tension between Luc and Cooper that's at fault, but it certainly doesn't help matters. There was probably a difference that everyone was tat the table, a small enough number of them that they could make one team, but they've always split up into pairs for unofficial debates and are unpractised - a ad strategy, but it hardly matters now. It's not like their team is top-notch, more like somewhere along the lines of a thrown together. Everyone wanted to be there, though, and in the end, Bennett figures that's what mattered.

He wonders if he would have had the same attitude about it last year, and it's a little discomforting to analyse that.

They don't face Jefferson, their divisional rival ending up nearly on the other side of the tournament rounds so that they never get high enough to be pitted directly. In the end, when they're leaving the conference building all the debates were held in, Bennett sees the Jefferson team moving on to their next round, eyes alight as they confer together, and Brian Harding looks over for the briefest moment and their eyes catch.

He smiles, and it's cold, unsettling. It looks like a promise for more to come, and Bennett can feel the clench in his stomach that tells he's afraid of what that might mean.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bennett can feel the burn sitting under his ribcage, biting at his heart, and it's not the anger, but the hurt, that after months of knowing each other, of seeming to get along better, of having kissed and more, Austin really doesn't seem to know him at all. Or worse -- that he'd never tried to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so far from my last update, but I've kind of been working on this sporadically inbetween university work, which I've definitely been struggling with lately. I don't think I'll be able to update again until after the semester is over in April, so I'm sorry for that. I am reachable through my tumblr (starburst-sunbeam), so if you want to contact me or see what I'm to or how the story is going, your best bet is there, and occasionally I update there if there's a really a large stumbling block. Also thinking of possibly taking prompts soon since I'm struggling with pacing the main plot out around all my school work but I could have time for short snippets and I love writing and these characters, so if I do, I'll say it there.

"Who's ready for Christmas break? Because I'm ready for Christmas break," Jasmine says as she struts up one morning.

"You don't even have any holiday spirit," Alison says, eyeing her critically.

"Don't need any," Jasmine replies, flipping her hair back before digging into her locker. "Just need to have a desire not to go to school for a couple weeks."

"From one of the Scholastic Club students?" Luc says, dry, "Scandalous."

Jasmine snorts at him.

"Excuse me, I need to borrow Luc for a moment," René says, sweeping down the hallway and grabbing Luc by the arm. They're gone before no one can even say anything.

Jasmine raises an eyebrow in their wake. "Should I be worried? French mafia or something?"

"Luc's Canadian," Cooper mutters into his locker.

" _French_  Canadian," Jasmine insists.

"Seriously, not even the same thing at all."

"He's not here to argue with me, go with it," she says, waving a dismissive hand.

Cooper turns to look at her, lips pursed unhappily, but he doesn't say anything else, so Jasmine waggles her eyebrows in victory. It's an expression only she can make look good, really.

Bennett sighs, propping his shoulders up against the locker back and kicking out one leg so he can cross his ankles. "Let go of Luc for a second. Are we doing present swap this year?"

Bridget lights up at the mention. "Ooh, please!"

Alison snorts. "That's because you're good at it."

Bridget pouts. "I like giving things. I like making people happy."

"I never know what to get anyone."

"Whatever," Jasmine cuts in. "I want swag, I can get behind this."

"You do realize you also have to  _give_  a gift, right?" Alison says, dry.

Jasmine shrugs, nonplussed.

Bennett sighs. "Okay, show of hands. Who wants to do the exchange?"

"What about an exchange?" says a low, male voice from right behind Bennett, and he jumps.

He can clearly hear and recognize Austin's laugh, and turns to face him, scowling.

Austin's still chucking as he starts to say, "What? Just asking."

Bennett pinches the bridge of his nose, willing calm to come from the gesture. "Gift exchange. We all put in our names, and then we pick one by one so we're all buying for one other person."

Austin tilts his head. "Huh. Okay. Carry on."

"Thank you for your permission," Bennett tells him, dry, and then herds him around so that he's standing with the others, and Bennett will see everyone's hands. "Okay, let's try again. Show of hands, who wants to do a name swap for gifts?"

Cooper's gotten distracted typing something into his phone, so he raises one hand without looking up. Jasmine's raised one of hers, and is wrestling with a hand on Alison's wrist to try to get her to lift hers, but she's resisting. Bridget happily has one hand in the air, Austin does too, looking bored, and Peter's leaning against the locker with arms crossed.

"Alright, four in favour, two against. Even if we count in Luc when he comes back we'll still do it either way," Bennett counts.

"What about your vote?" Austin asks, mock concerned. Bennett rolls his eyes.

"I'll still put my name in, calm down."

"Just looking out for you," Austin says, lying an arm heavy across Bennett's shoulders. He huffs about it, but he doesn't push it away.

Luc comes around the corner then, looking significantly more relaxed than the harried and distressed expression he'd flashed before René had pulled him away. "What's going on?"

"Gift exchange," Bridget tells him, practically a chirp, clapping her hands together.

Luc raises an eyebrow. "Okay."

"We didn't need you to tie break, would have gone through either way," Bennett tells him, and Luc looks at him with a smile kind of twitching at the corner of his mouth.

"Thanks, Ben. I'm sure you've got it handled."

Bennett's not sure why he's saying that with an edge of humour. He  _does_  have it handled.

"I can't believe he looks confused at that," Jasmine says to the group at large, and then focuses in on Bennett directly. "You've been on student council too long."

Bennett snorts at her. "Okay, whatever. Can we all write down names on slips and I'll draw them out?"

"No," Jasmine says, which, what even, she was trying to force Alison's hand up. "We're going to use an app, like modern people, because there is no fucking way there isn't an app for this."

"Jasmine," Bennett sighs.

"Restrain him," she says loftily, and Bennett's about to get kind of fondly annoyed and exasperated, but then the arm he'd forgotten was around his shoulders drops down and Austin pulls him into a light chokehold.

Grabbing at the arms restraining him, Bennett ends up kind of sputtering. "What the fuck?"

"Oh my god, Ben  _swore_ ," Alison says, eyes wide with feigned shock.

"Fuck you all," he bites at her.

"Okay, got it," Jasmine declares, waving her phone at them.

Austin promptly lets go of Bennett, and Bennett shoves his forearm into his stomach, the two of them jostling each other with Bennett's token protest.

"Give it to us," Alison says, curling the fingers of both hands in towards herself in "hit me with it" gesture.

"For someone who didn't want to do this, you're oddly excited about it," Peter tells her, and she reaches out a hand to stop palm out in front of his face, shushing him.

"Peter has Cooper, Cooper has me, I have Alison, Alison has Luc, Luc has Peter. Bennett has Bridget, Austin has Bennett, and Bridget has Austin. Anyone need me to repeat?" Jasmine says to them, military commander style.

Peter raises a hand. "Yeah, I do."

Jasmine rolls her eyes. "You have Cooper and Alison has you. I'll write it down or post it on facebook or something," she says, flapping a hand dismissively.

Bennett has enough sense of mind to wonder if the app is really random -- or if it is, if the universe is just messing with him endlessly.

* * *

 

"What are you doing over Christmas break?" Austin says to him before their first class, forearms braced on the desk so he can lean to shadow over Bennett's shoulder, not touching, but presence heavy across them all the same.

"Why are you asking?" he says, feigning nonchalance, flipping through his notebook and ignoring the way he thinks he's imagining the ghost of Austin's breath over his shoulder. There's no way he's close enough, but still Bennett thinks he can feel it, or knows the feeling of it enough to respond to the proximity, the phantom sensation sending shivers down his spine.

"Because you didn't even have plans for Thanksgiving," Austin responds, flat.

Bennett can feel his mouth flattening. "Yeah, okay, that's nice."

Austin huffs, and this time Bennett can feel the breath of it, and fights off a reaction. "Seriously."

"I don't want to talk about it," he mutters.

"So I'm taking that as a no," Austin says, and Bennett kind of wants to turn around and whack him to get the undoubtedly smug look off his face.

"It's not really your business," Bennett says instead, flat, a clear signal to stop asking.

"Dude, Thanksgiving is about coming together and you didn't even--"

Bennett slams his notebook down onto the desk. "Well your family isn't mine, so it hardly makes a difference." He can hear the steel in his voice, the icy edge that he's been trying to tame so he can curb the "Ice Queen" nickname, and maybe their classmates can hear them, but Bennett doesn't care right now. Austin can take his pitying attitude and fuck right off with it; Bennett doesn't need him thinking that he needs looking after, or that he needs to offer up his own family in compensation for Bennett's being more distant. Bennett's family... they're there, his Mom wants him to be successful, wants him to do well, and that's it's own kind of assurance, that she does it because she wants what's best for him. And it's different, not the warm home and smell of cooking that drifts through the Haroldes house, but he was raised by his mother, and he knows it, knows the way she pushes him. The way that the Haroldes' parents flutter over their kids and Bennett too just makes him uncomfortable.

He doesn't fit. Maybe there's some truth to his nickname -- he's distant, cold, talks to garner standing before friendship, sits loyal behind his friends to back them and would jump in on their side without a moment's hesitation, but won't even show those he's closest to affection or words of compliment or opens up to them.

His world is vastly different than Austin's, and he doesn't like the reminder, doesn't like the implication that he's lacking in some way, that Austin's life is better, that his blood ties are better in some way.

Bennett isn't looking at him, but he can hear the way Austin inhales through his teeth, can feel the way he's willing calm, the tension stretched and sparking between them revived like Bennett hasn't felt it in a while. The implication that he's somehow lesser, something Austin hasn't implied for a while, is locking his shoulders down tight, has them tensed as though he can feel the words Austin's going to use to belittle him settling there before they've even been spoken.

"I know they're not," Austin says, and his voice is quieter than Bennett expected, but he still doesn't turn at it, locks his jaw instead of letting himself feel guilty for the breaking point threatening to snap that was in his voice. "I know that, Ben, but I'm... I don't like leaving you alone like that, and Gem and my mom love you --"

Bennett turns around then, cutting Austin off again with a hiss of, "They hardly know me."

Austin presses his mouth together, licking his lips like he wants to say something but knows Bennett wouldn't like hearing it. Bennett narrows his eyes at him, challenging -- Austin hardly had a problem poking at his sore spots before, calling him a quitter at the spelling bee, implying he's a shit friend who doesn't care, telling him with his eyes and tone that he's better than Bennett and that he has no chance of keeping up. It burns in his chest now, bitter and angry and all of his own disappointment and self-doubt wrapped up in it. Austin must see what's in his eyes, because he hesitates before Bennett can see him let go of the words he'd been rolling on his tongue, deciding not to speak them.

"Okay," he says, slow, almost placating in a sense that makes Bennett grind his teeth. "You're not the closest friend I've ever had, but I like you. You could come over more, and then you'd all get to know each other, and you might fit in at the house. I know, I know maybe they don't love you, but they could. They could be like your family too." There's a strangeness in Austin's voice, in his eyes, like a thread of hope, of attempted convincing, and Bennett doesn't understand it. Austin isn't the type to lie, but he's never stopped antagonizing Bennett, never stopped saying shit to him all the time, pushing and pulling with words and movements, and Bennett's his ragdoll, and maybe Austin does like him but that's probably just the version of Bennett he's fabricated, the one who comes over easy to his house and puts up a protest for the sake of it. Bennett burns with the implication.

"They could be  _like_  my family," he says, voice like ice, feeling his fingers curl in to clench in his palm, and his eyes feel like they're so hardened, so stone firm and cold, that with the emotion churning him up from the inside out they could be flaking like chips off ice, floating to melt, a less willing version of tears. He's barely human, he thinks, to most of the people around him, and usually he likes it, likes that security that no one really knows him, but now he hates the implication, that Austin sees a part of him that he doesn't know himself. "They never  _will_  be my family."

Because Austin hasn't been in his head, and if he thinks he has to make up up for something on Bennett's behalf, than he really doesn't know him at all, because Bennett would always rather earn things, doesn't like people sharing with a sense of obligation over generosity, and he can feel the tensile strength of his jaw shut tight, staring Austin down.

Austin leans back a little, sitting on his heels, tracing a finger over the grain of the desktop and following it with his eyes. "Family doesn't have to be blood."

"I don't want a forced one," he says, sharp, and Austin looks up at him, blinking wide eyes, and Bennett wants to hurt him, with words or hands, for seeming to believe so much that he's doing something good for Bennett while barely knowing him at all, having no idea what he really wants.

Bennett doesn't know either, but he doesn't like people trying to lead him there, saying they know better. He wants to find his own way, and he always has.

The bell rings, and Austin looks stricken, upset at having lost his chance to speak, but Bennett hardly gives a shit, is frankly glad not to have to hear all the things Austin's thinking about him right now.

"I don't need a fucking donation," Bennett hisses at him, the last words in the conversation that's now shut down, before turning around. He can hear the cracking over his carefully smoothed and unaffected surface of icy voice, can hear the tension and emotion leaking in, and hopes Austin can't pick out the soreness and hurt to his character that he's hiding at, trying to keep from digging out and poking at like a bruise, questioning himself too much. He analyses himself enough as it is, always trying to be better, balancing everything he has, looking at his time management and what he could do to be more effective, and he wants to be successful, to make the most of himself, and he hates that Austin's looking at him like he's lacking, like he's less of a person, that he doesn't know enough to recognize love.

Bennett remembers what his parents were like together. He just remembers more of how they are apart.

* * *

 

Austin tries to talk to him again when class ends, waiting as the other people in their row go past, Bennett shoving his books off his desk and straight into his bag. He stands up, pulling his bag onto his shoulder, and he goes to move out of the classroom without looking back at Austin, but then a hand catches his wrist.

He freezes.

"Bennett," Austin says, voice low, fingers pressing at the bones of his wrist. He hesitates, feels the way Austin's hand is larger, fingers overlapping where they close around his arm, but it feels like a string through his arm pulling his heart tight.

"Let go," he says, quiet, and Austin pauses, hand flexing its grip, before he lets go.

He hesitates a second, working his jaw as he thinks, but in the end he just walks away. Maybe Austin wants to talk about it, maybe he feels bad for what he said, maybe he just wants to deal with the fact that Bennett's obviously angry, possibly incensed. He doesn't care. He doesn't like Austin putting what he thinks is best onto Bennett, that he seems to be displaying a complete lack of understanding of Bennett.

Bennett can feel the burn sitting under his ribcage, biting at his heart, and it's not the anger, but the hurt, that after months of knowing each other, of seeming to get along better, of having kissed and more, Austin really doesn't seem to know him at all. Or worse -- that he'd never tried to.

He thinks he's gotten it under control by the time he gets to the lockers, has it down on lock, especially when no one in the group even glances at him twice. Austin's quiet, usually he comes in teasing and annoying from the get go, but now he just stands by the edges, stalling at the periphery, and he gets a few looks, but mostly he's left alone.

Bennett switches out his books, stays only long enough not to look suspicious, and then leaves to Biology. It's to his surprise when Jasmine kicks up a fast pace away from their lockers and shows up at his side, barely slowing, nearly outpacing him. She looks powerful, legs stretching, and Bennett knows her too well to be intimidated, but he almost wants to be, with her crowding at his side when her own class is in the other direction.

"Did he say something?" she says, short, not even looking sideways at Bennett, gaze fixed straight ahead like she's surveying a battlefield instead of a school hallway.

Bennett blinks at her, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

Jasmine still doesn't move her gaze, but Bennett can see her quirk an eyebrow, since he's looking at her. "Austin, did he say something?"

Bennett frowns, but he knows Jasmine can read him better than anyone. He thinks she gets it in a way, that feeling of sitting your emotions close to your chest, keeping your cards from being read, of wanting to trust but being afraid of feeling the vulnerability almost more than the way you're baring yourself to be broken.

"It's not --" He stops, frustrated, trying to think of how to say it so that it makes sense, without telling too much at all. "It's not what he said so much as how he said it," he settles on, which isn't nearly enough, but he can't think of a way that's truer that.

Jasmine glances at him, and then nods decisively. They've reached Bennett's classroom by then, so she comes to a sharp stop, twisting on her heels to face him as she does. She leans down slightly so they're eye to eye. "Okay, Ben. You don't need to tell us anything if you don't want to, but we're always here if you need it."

He doesn't know exactly which "we" she's talking about, because he can't imagine sitting Peter down and talking himself out about all the way he's set his own criteria for what constitutes as failure and success. But Bennett thinks that might just be the way Jasmine's similar, not too willing to be obviously open about her own emotions, and that's her way of saying that she, herself, will stand by him, though not in so many words.

He can feel his mouth quirk a little, grateful for the way she's staring him down like she's daring him to tell her no, to contradict her, like she'll fight him for the right to fight for him. "I don't have anything to say now, but I think it might be a bit easier if I did."

She smiles then, crooked in that way she does when you catch her off guard, and then stands up again, ruffling his hair. "Good."

He swats at her hand, snorting. "Thanks," he says, dry, but he means it.

Judging by the way she's looking at him, she knows that. "Later, Ben," she tells him, and she doesn't even wait for a reply before she's turning and strutting down the hallway, and she's not the tallest, but she exudes enough confidence and presence that everyone moves out of her way instead of making her weave.

He shakes his head at her, but there's a warmth settling and spreading outwards, and he's too fond to really judge her anything.

* * *

 

Austin isn't at their lockers when Bennett goes there after Biology, and he's both confused and relieved, and stupidly, conflictingly disappointed for Austin leaving him alone, not bothering to push to get Bennett to talk or forgive him.

He finds out why when he heads to Physics and sees that Austin is already there, sitting in his usual seat behind where Bennett, arms folded and staring him down like a challenge to dare to sit somewhere else. Bennett resists the urge to roll his eyes, setting his bag down and sitting in front of Austin without saying anything.

"I'm not trying to force them on you," Austin bites out, talking to Bennett's back, words harsh but still quiet, and Bennett feels a spark of bitterness that Austin knows enough to keep quiet about this but can't understand why it bothers him in the first place.

Bennett breathes in through his nose, slow. "You're not trying to, but you are, because you think it's better for me."

Bennett doesn't need to turn around to know Austin's scowling, frown severe as he thinks that over, and Bennett knows without asking that he still doesn't get it.

He doesn't want people to be able to read him, he likes only letting people see as much as he gives up, but he doesn't like Austin taking what he's been shown and drawing lines back to what he hasn't. It makes Bennett prickle, especially because he keeps that to himself for a reason, hates the weakness of it, and Austin's getting close in a way, sensing the way he feels lonely sometimes, but Bennett isn't someone to be fixed, and they're his emotions and his life alone to handle.

* * *

 

Scholastic Club after school is a shit-show, Bennett quieter than usual and everyone noticing, the answers he does give all clipped. Austin's the polar opposite, aggressive, fighting to answer more questions than could really be helpful and barely giving the others a chance, glaring at Bennett periodically and only seeming more wound up when Bennett stares back with flat eyes. Austin leaves in a whirlwind, teeth clenched and eyes burning blue fire as he throws his backpack over his shoulder, and Bennett knows that look, that hint of determination through anger and challenge and maybe a little cruelty, and he knows Austin's planning something, and that he probably won't like it.

"So what's  _actually_  up?" Jasmine asks him at the end of Scholastic Club practice, where Austin tried to rile him up and Bennett ignored him with icy apathy more than they had since Austin had practically arrived.

Bennett turned to her, frowning, but Jasmine just raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"You're not subtle," she informed him. "And I know I said I'd let you come to me when you were ready, but it seems bigger than that. I think you need a push. You're probably doing that dumb thing where you twist everything around in your head to make it bigger than it is and harder to verbalize."

Bennett pulled a face at her, the prospect of lying himself bare emotionally making him deeply uncomfortable, but she just snorts at him.

Jasmine never has given him the easy way out. It's why he values her so much -- she always pushes him, never goes soft or easy, just enough challenge to get him to where he needs. He thinks she's the only one who could manage it without being antagonistic.

He's quiet, packing away the last of his books, thinking of where to start, and Jasmine waits until he's done and turned to face her.

"Austin did something, didn't he?" She says, straight to the point.

Bennett can involuntarily feel his noise scrunch up, mouth twisting to the side. Even though he can't see it, he knows it's an unpleasant sensation -- hurt and anger and dissatisfaction rolled into one, and he can't tell if it's because of Austin or himself. "In a way," he concedes.

"Elaborate," she tells him, crossing one leg over the other as she waves her hands at him, ushering him on.

He pauses just for a moment, feeling his jaw tick. "He invited me to Christmas with his family." He means it to come out cold, calm and unaffected, but it comes out oddly flat instead, in that way the people who know him too well can pick out as him hiding something.

Jasmine's eyebrow ticks up, and even though she's sitting down in a chair while Bennett stands facing her, he feels so very small. "How dare he," she says, dry.

Bennett shakes his head, frustrated at being so at a loss of words, of having them all to charm and manipulate other people's emotions, but never the ones to express his own. It makes him sick, that this is what he is. "You don't understand," he says, hearing the strain in his voice as he drags his fingers back through thick strands of hair. "I'm -- He knows I had no one around at Thanksgiving. I don't want to be... I don't want to be  _less_  than him, something of his pity project now that he can't get under my skin from getting better marks, from being smarter and more popular, finding it easy to charm all of my friends into being his too."

Jasmine's quiet for a long time, and Bennett's starting to feel worse, torn up about how he never should've spoken about this in the first place, his feelings out of proportion and illegitimate.

"I didn't know you felt that way," she says eventually, quiet, almost to herself. Bennett blinks at her.

"Which part of it?" he retorts, bitter, feeling the sting of the words even himself, but Jasmine doesn't flinch, too strong for her own good.

She shakes her head at him. "Just because we're friends with him too doesn't mean you're ours any less than before. God knows if it came down between the two of you I'd pick you every time, and I'm sure the others would do the same." She pauses then, contemplating something. "Well, maybe not Bridget, but it's because she doesn't like fighting, not because she doesn't like you better."

An unwilling laugh is pulled out of Bennett then, but it's weak and ugly, wet sounding. At least it's still genuine, and Jasmine smiles back at him, a tinge of melancholy in the curve of her lips. "I worry about you, you know. You work harder than all of us and never think it's enough. All these clubs and grades and then you're also working around the school with teachers and the principal and garnering enough attention to keep landing student council. You're going to run yourself dry."

Bennett frowns, running a fingertip over the polished wood of the desks. "Because it still isn't enough."

Jasmine's expression flattens out, mouth going into a severe line, caught somewhere between sad upset and anger. "That's not --"

He shakes his head, cutting her off, hearing the frustration mounting, growing into a stronger anger at himself, like gasoline readying itself for an inevitable flame, like hurtling downhill before he can stop himself. "I'm not --" He stops himself, feeling his voice choke, "I'm boring on my own," he says, voice steady but flat, "All of you are funny or charming or sarcastic or shy, you're all...  _something_ , but I need all of this because without it I'm just... blank. Forgettable. You said it yourself how I tuck everything away, and that doesn't leave me with anything."

He flickers a glance, and Jasmine's looking over at the clock on the wall. "Being resistant to change, wary of who you let in and tell things... that doesn't make you boring."

A wry smile ticks up at the corner of Bennett's mouth. "No it doesn't. But I am. 'Ice Queen', huh?"

Jasmine flinches at that.

He breathes in slow, lets it out in a heavy sigh. "Doesn't matter."

Jasmine shakes her head, turning to look at him again. "What does this have to do with Christmas?"

He lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "I don't... You didn't see me there. I don't  _belong_. It was obvious to everyone there that I didn't fit in, that I was the odd link. They're doing Grace, and I don't believe, and offering me food, and I'm too stiff and polite, and the parents love the kids and keep pictures of them on the wall. And I hate it. I wouldn't want my family like that even if I could have it, but Austin seems to think that I should, that I'm deprived."

Jasmine snorts. "Tell him that?"

Bennett frowns, tracing his finger over the tabletop again.

Jasmine takes that as the answer it is. "Listen," she tells, and he looks up at the sound of her no-broke tone, the one where she's decided something and they're all going to follow it. "You tell him, and then you and I are going to go out on Christmas and watch them light up the tree in town square, and then maybe ice skate, and then we'll go to my house and watch action movies with horrible physics in between my Mom yelling at me in Mandarin. Cool?"

Bennett snorts, but he's smiling lightly, something calmed in his chest. Jasmine is probably better than anyone he knows at convincing him to like himself. "Deal."

* * *

 

He doesn't know where to start with Austin, knows enough to trust Jasmine on this, would trust her even if he didn't see where she was coming from, but he honestly doesn't know where to begin. He's been on debate club for all of his high school years, but he's missing the words to convince himself, to convince others that he means things, that he feels them more than he lets on.

He's been accused of being unemotional and unfeeling more than he can count. He thinks the problem is more of the opposite -- feeling too much, knowing that it'll hurt more if he gets picked apart, trying to bury it all down only for it to get too much to keep under lock, surfacing always the ugliest emotions and the people he wants to give them to the least, being unable to convince anyone he's sincere when he tries to apologize later. If he doesn't feel, how could he care when he's hurt someone else, how can it be anything other than cursory manners?

He's at home, trying to compose his words and he pounds out his assigned practice songs at the piano, fingers too rough, the music hammered out rather than flowing, and he knows it's not right, too violent, that he'll have to start all over again and probably spend extra work undoing the way he's messing up the rhythm and emotion today, but he can't get himself to stop, knows that he'll probably do too much damage somewhere else if he pulls back now, in a way more substantial.

He's finally finished, panting, wiping the fine sheen of sweat from his forehead and away from his eyes, pushing his hair back and polishing off a bottle of water when the phone rings.

He checks the caller ID and reads it with some surprise.

He hadn't expected Austin to contact him first.

He answers with a mix of trepidation and relief. "Hello?"

"You can't just act like you know better than all of us, see-sawing back and forth between friendly and hostile --" Austin starts, heated, and Bennett nearly wants to laugh, that Austin prepared this, that he's trying to get it out so badly he'd barely waited for Bennett to get his own hello let alone give one of his own.

"Austin --" he tries, but Austin keeps talking right over him.

"I know that I was kind of an ass before, or maybe a lot of an ass, but that doesn't give you the excuse to decide when to give the rest of us the time of day or not, when to be nice or ice us over, without an explanation. I know that I'm not like you --"

" _Austin_."

"-- that I handle things differently, but I can't know what's going on with you if you don't  _tell_  me --"

"Austin!"

Austin stops there, hearing him, and Bennett can practically hear the way his mouth snaps closed, quick, and the inappropriate urge to laugh bubbles up again, though he manages to tamp it down.

"I was out of line," he says, soft. "I'm sorry."

Austin huffs. "Okay. What... what got you so wound up, though?"

Bennett pauses, can feel the way his heart clenches at the thought of telling him, of letting him know that he was hurt, but he doesn't have much of a choice. It's the trade off for making things right; the least that Austin deserves for the way he turned sharp and angry.

"I didn't like the implication that I was lacking, that the way my family does things is fundamentally lesser than yours," he says, and the pain of it feels brighter that way, getting it all out concise and brief like that, and it feels like a knife slice, but it's good in a way, can feel the release of it oozing out.

Austin's quiet for so long Bennett almost starts to burn up, ashamed and embarrassed and regretting admitting it, but then he speaks, "You should have told me."

"I know," Bennett says, because he knows that now. "I'm telling you now."

Austin hums on the other side of the line. "So I'm taking that as you don't want to come for Christmas?"

Bennett laughs unexpectedly then. "Not really. I felt really out of place at Thanksgiving. Christmas is so much a family thing, and I'm... not yours."

"You can just tell me that, you know. It's okay."

Bennett closes his eyes, listening to the softness in Austin's voice, the apology for not understanding all wrapped up in emotion, in understanding Bennett and accepting him. It's a lot.

"I know that now," Bennett says, feeling the phone in his hands, cradled. "I'm... Look, it's okay being over there, I don't mind, I like your family. But not Christmas, not Thanksgiving, not stuff like that."

"Okay," Austin agrees easily. "Okay."

Bennett breathes out, relieved. "Thanks."

"Of course," Austin says. "Oh, but Bennett?"

"Yeah?" he says, wary.

"Remember that I'm still buying your Christmas present."

Bennett groans into the phone, and hangs up on the sound of Austin's laughter.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes I think you could be one of Santa's elves," she says randomly, and Bennett shoots her a look, but she ignores him and keeps talking. "I mean, you're super organized and goal orientated, but I can't imagine you settling to being subordinate for your entire job, working the whole year for one guy to get all the glory for a single night's work, getting the flashy job."
> 
> That hits a little too close to home, so he just snorts, trying to brush it off. "No opinion on the ears?"
> 
> Alison reaches out and pinches the top of his ear. "Logic, Spock."
> 
> He actually does laugh then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so much later than the last chapter, but school got really busy, and I also got a little stuck plotwise and the order of it etc, etc. Anyways, this chapter is a little short but I wanted to get it out since it's been so long since teh last one. I need to get through the winter holidays as a time stamp sort of thing, and then after things should get going, and I am predicting I'll have more time to write since I'm only taking one spring course for university. (But it's my first spring course, so that is VERY MUCH a prediction.)
> 
> Quick reminder for the gift exchange, the one giving is on the right and the one receiving is the left:
> 
> Peter - Cooper
> 
> Cooper - Jasmine
> 
> Jasmine - Alison
> 
> Alison - Luc
> 
> Luc - Peter
> 
> Bennett - Bridget
> 
> Austin - Bennett
> 
> Bridget - Austin
> 
> And now for the chapter!

Winter break starts up then, and Bennett goes shopping with Alison. Not that she'll help him pick out a gift for Bridget, because she seems to know less about what to get her than Bennett does. You wouldn't guess which one of them was dating her at first glance.

"What does Luc even  _like_?" Alison asks him, holding up a book between two fingers like a piece of grungy laundry she doesn't want to touch.

"You  _could_  ask Cooper," Bennett tells her. She should know he won't be any help in getting her gift either.

"Ugh," Alison says, putting the book back onto the shelf. "Historical, right? But a book in French? Non-fiction? Historical fiction? What era? Fuck if I know."

"Ask René," Bennett says.

"Pretty sure we would create a war over Luc between her and Cooper, so, maybe not," Alison says, brushing hair away from her face, and yeah, Bennett can give her that one.

"Bridget likes giving, she might have an idea," he says dryly. To be honest, he's not that sympathetic to Alison's troubles.

"I know!" Alison cries, throwing her hands up. "That's why I want to find a good gift on my own."

Bennett rolls his eyes.

They end up leaving the bookstore empty handed, and Alison looks mutinous, eyes fiery like she could mug someone if they happened to have the perfect gift.

"Any idea where Bridget likes to shop?" he asks, and Alison's look melts away, turning all deer in the headlights, and yeah, he expected that.

He goes to a store he knows his Mom shops at, gets Bridget a beautiful, soft coloured blue cashmere scarf. It fits her perfectly, and Alison just looks more thunderous.

"Don't over-think it," he tells her, and Alison shoots him a brewing, angry look.

"Like you didn't come with a plan of shops to already visit," she bites, which, true.

She chose to come with him though.

"Sometimes I think you could be one of Santa's elves," she says randomly, and Bennett shoots her a look, but she ignores him and keeps talking. "I mean, you're super organized and goal orientated, but I can't imagine you settling to being subordinate for your entire job, working the whole year for one guy to get all the glory for a single night's work, getting the flashy job."

That hits a little too close to home, so he just snorts, trying to brush it off. "No opinion on the ears?"

Alison reaches out and pinches the top of his ear. "Logic, Spock."

He actually does laugh then.

* * *

 

Alison almost buys Luc a French-English dictionary for Luc before Bennett laughs himself sick and reminds her Luc is basically the human version of that.

She gets huffy about that and ends up buying him a book of photography of the Great Lakes, which is at least better than the idea she had before.

* * *

 

Last day of school before Christmas break, they all come to school carrying their gifts.

Alison looks sullen, glaring down at the wrapped book in her hands like it can morph itself into something perfect. Bridget, standing beside her, is basically human sunshine.

"Can I go first?" Bridget asks, and Bennett can imagine her clapping her hands together if she didn't have a gift in them.

Jasmine shrugs. "Go for it."

Bridget beams, and then thrusts her present out in Austin's direction. Austin takes it, laughing.

"I'll let you know I have high expectations now," he's saying, eyes crinkling, and Bennett glances down at his hands.

"Well then we'll see if they're fulfilled," Bridget tells him, ushering him with her hands to open it.

Austin laughs a little more, and then reaches through the tissue paper at the top of the bag, pulls out a nice wallet with a leather band wrapped around it. He just blinks at it for a moment, before Bridget launches forward so she can point to the gift and explain.

"I've noticed you sometimes where like, leather or hemp bracelets and stuff, so I got you a leather one with a metal plate in the middle that you could get engraved with whatever. It just didn't add up to a lot, and I figure guys can always use a nice wallet, yeah?"

Austin smiles a little bit, laughter pulling at his mouth in the way that he's pleased but fond, doesn't want Bridget to think he's laughing at her or her enthusiasm. "It's a great idea."

Bridget obviously doesn't want to look smug, but she can't help from smiling, practically beaming from energy.

Luc gets Peter a keychain that spells "FUCK" out of periodic element tables, making him laugh like hell. Peter, in return, gets Cooper a ring with an outer part that spins around, roman numerals printed on it.

Cooper gets Jasmine a pair of earrings, to which she raises an eyebrow and tells him, "Good job." Jasmine turns around and brandishes Alison with a full finger ring, wrapping around the area on each side of the knuckle with a small piece to connect underneath, allowing the finger to bend.

Alison lights up. "You're the best."

Jasmine buffs her nails against her shirt. "I know."

Bennett can't help but snort, and Jasmine pins a look on him. "Well, prove me wrong then sir."

Bennett rolls his eyes, but gives Bridget the bag with her gift. When she pulls it out, her eyes go wide.

"Oh, that is so not fair," Cooper says, and Bennett can't quite keep the smile from pulling at his lips.

" _Thank you_ ," Bridget says fervently, throwing herself forward to hug him, and he wraps her up, hiding his face in her neck.

"I'm glad you like it," he murmurs.

"I love it," she argues, and Bennett can hear the thankfulness, the happiness, in her voice. It's not just that he got her something nice, he thinks, but that you can tell he was thinking of her when he got it.

He clings to her a little tighter, breathes in the smell of her hair, before he lets her ago. She smiles at him, something a little wet to her, and he has to fight to keep his voice from choking. "It's beautiful," she whispers.

"Had to suit you, didn't it?" he says, and she has to pull her lips in for a moment, emotional, and holds his hand just long enough to squeeze it before she lets go.

The others gave them their moment, or where just too distracted moving on to see what Alison's gift for Luc was. They're a cacophony now, Cooper mocking Alison ruthlessly while Luc tries to get him to stop, saying he likes it even if it's not his favourite thing. Alison can't seem to be able to tell who she should be fighting.

Austin sidles over to Bennett while they do this, nudges him in the side. "Just you left, then?"

Bennett turns to him, rolls his eyes and decides he might as well get it over with. "Lay it on me."

Austin, to Bennett's surprise, pulls out a small jewellery box from his jacket, slipping it into Bennett's hand. He just stares at it for a moment, before Austin nudges him again and he opens it.

Sitting in the bed of cotton, is a small necklace pendant, a plate of silver there before above it is set a shape made out of black. It's the island of Japan, and Bennett continues to stare at it, unable to figure out what he thinks. ([x](http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41tPguFJUqL._UY395_.jpg))

"I know you're not from Japan yourself," Austin says, a little tremour of nerves in his voice that Bennett isn't entirely sure isn't just his imagination. "But I figure it's a part of you, still."

"Where did you find this?" Bennett asks.

Austin shrugs, digs his hands into his pockets. "It was my idea, but my mom helped me look."

That isn't an answer at all. Did he comb jewellery shops? Look online? Get something custom made? Bennett's chest aches, and he thinks it's better for him not to know.

He clutches the pendant between his fingers, feels the shape of it press into his palm. "Thank you," he says, voice quiet, throat feeling tight.

Austin looks at him a little, like he doesn't know what to say to that, what Bennett's reaction means, so in the end he just nods.

"Best Christmas already," Bridget says, beaming, draping an arm over Alison to pull her in to hug even while Alison rolls her eyes, still a little sour from the ribbing over her own gift.

"By the way, my parents are letting me have friends over for New Year's Eve if I want. You guys in?" Alison asks, tucking some hair behind her ear.

"Definitely," Jasmine replies, already putting in the earrings she'd been given. "Everyone in?" Around the group, everyone makes sounds of agreement, so Jasmine nods decisively. "Great, I'll organize rides and shit on facebook later. And I'll call Ben."

Bennett shrugs, knowing she was annoyed he didn't have one, and not particularly caring. Jasmine sighs exaggeratedly, and he just rolls his eyes.

"Can you guys stop the passive-agressive asian fighting thing?" Peter pleads, and Jasmine hits him around the back of the head.

"China and Japan have very different cultures. They usually hate each other, even."

"Why?" Peter asks, bewildered, and Jasmine and Bennett roll their eyes at each other.

"It's a really long history," Bennett says, dry, and Peter still looks confused, wide eyed with misunderstanding, and so he just sighs and walks off to class.

"Leave me with him, why don't you!" Jasmine calls after him, and Bennett waves over his shoulder without looking back.

* * *

 

"You're not going to spend New Year's with your family?" Austin asks, sliding into the seat behind Bennett before classes start.

Bennett shrugs, turning to face him with his arms folded on the desk between them. "I doubt we'll meet until later. I can spend the earlier part of the day with my Mom and New Year's day with her, and I usually call my dad the day of instead of the eve anyway."

"Hmm," Austin says, eyes shrouded with doubt. "If you say so."

Bennett has to resist the urge to roll his eyes, but some of his annoyance comes out in his cocked brow. "New Year's is pretty important to my mom, trust me. We have some traditions, but they don't have to be at midnight. Most of it involves food."

"Food?" Austin asks, lighting up.

Bennett snorts. "I'm not bringing any to share," he says, and then ignores Austin's pout and puppy dog eyes until the bell rings for first period.

* * *

 

He's alone at home over Christmas, his mom holding some business Christmas party to charm potential partners that are the heads of their own businesses. Most of them are men that are unmarried, or at least without children, so she asked if he'd mind staying home. She didn't want them to look down on her before they even spoke, thinking her either a bad partner to work with or bad mother. He'd told her he didn't.

That was Christmas Eve, and so his mom had woken up late and then spent the afternoon sitting in the living room and on the barstools at their counter, lounging or working intermittently, doing her company's finances or just reading or doing who knew what else on her laptop. Bennett had watched his friends show each other youtube videos at lunch but he couldn't imagine what his Mom would get up to on the internet.

It ends up being a quiet day, and usually Bennett likes those, but he couldn't figure out if it's something he feels fits for what he wants for Christmas. Doesn't matter, he supposes. Growing up, Dad had always taken over Christmas, commandeered the dinner and tree trimming, all of it. His mom just let him have it, under agreement that they celebrated New Year's to her culture. Now that they were divorced and his father away, Christmas was quiet, and he isn't sure how he felt about it. Chances are that carrying on as he had before when his Dad did celebrate with him would have seemed worse.

Bridget calls him, wishing him a "Happy Holidays, Ben," and he smiles, glad that she isn't pushing, isn't pitying, but still cares, still thinks of all of them.

"Thanks, Bridget. You too," he tells her, and can hear the smile in her goodbye.

Austin calls him just over an hour later, and Bennett can't help but feel strange, under the microscope with his mother listening across the room, in the living room while he's in the open concept kitchen.

"Hello," he says, pushing hair behind his ears out of habit.

"Benny!"

Bennett resists the urge to thunk his head onto the countertop. "Austin," he intones dryly.

"Merry Christmas," the voice coos down the line, and Bennett pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Merry Christmas, Austin," he says, trying to sound exasperated, but there's probably at least a note of amusement.

"I know you're not doing anything for Christmas, but are you sure you don't want a food delivery or something? Turkey? Gravy? I can hook you up."

"That's really okay, Austin," he says, and this time he's sure Austin can hear the laughter in his voice.

"See you on New Year's, Ben," Austin tells him, voice soft, and Bennett can feel warmth bloom in his chest, pressing a hand to his breastbone like he can physically push it down.

"See you at New Year's," he replies.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know there's all these beliefs, superstitions, traditions and all that around new year's, yeah?"
> 
> Bennett frowns. He can't see where Austin's going with this. "Yes."

Jasmine remembers her promise to him, and though they don't spend the day at her house, or even Christmas Eve like was implied, he does meet her at the very end of Christmas Day. Jasmine's parents take them both to watch the light of the Christmas Tree in front of the Legislative building get shut down, and it's the reverse of what Jasmine said they'd do, more of goodbye than a beginning, but there's something calm about it.

The night only means a new slate, the chance of a new morning.

* * *

 

Bennett's mother sees him wearing the necklace the next morning, and she comes up to where he's sitting at the counter, kisses his cheek. " _I like it_ ," she tells him, Japanese crisper than his will ever be.

He can feel a little glow light up in his chest. " _Thank you_ ," he tells her.

" _Your note said you were with friends for New Years?_ "

" _Yes_ ," he affirms, tucking some hair behind his ear. " _New Year's Eve, the countdown._ "

" _Good_ ," she says, " _I have plans for the day._ "

He blinks at her, trying to hide his surprise. " _Yes._ "

She nods firmly, and that seems to be it.

* * *

 

Austin calls two days before to ask if he wants a ride.

Bennett only hesitates a second before he agrees.

* * *

 

Bennett knows it's only his friends, all of which have seen him even at his most hight strung, but he still wants to look good on New Year's for reasons he can't discern.

He finds a dark grey t-shirt and layers a dark blue buttoned cardigan over top of it, plays with the pendant of his necklace for a moment and debates over taking it off before tucking it into his shirt.

Austin picks him up, the braided leather bracelet Bridget got him sitting over the bones of his wrist, eyes lit. "Ready, Netter?"

Bennett rolls his eyes, resists the urge to thumb his pendant. "As I'll ever be."

Austin's hand, the one lying closer to Austin, twitches for a moment, fingers curling like he wants to do something and resisting, before he drops it onto the gear shift, obviously changing tracks for his train of thought.

He turns in his seat so he can look out the back window as he pulls out of Austin's driveway, and Bennett studies his profile, wonders how Austin can continue to look consistently more and more beautiful to him. The light isn't dark enough to be night, dim and soft rays playing across the skin of Austin's face, brushing his cheekbones in a kiss, the strong lines of his neck and jaw creating shadows, falling over the hollow of his throat and collarbone.

Bennett forces himself to look away, holds his wrist with his other hand and squeezes.

* * *

 

Alison's parents let them in, and her mother is acting the host, polite as she lets them in, but Bennett can tell she definitely wants Alison to be handling this, directs them to the basement as soon as their coats are put away and everything.

Alison lights up when she sees them. "Hey guys! There's just Luc left, but feel free to relax."

Cooper's frowning at his phone, evidently too worried about Luc's possibly crashing and dying a firey death to interact with the rest of them, even despite the unlikelihood. Jasmine, sitting on the arm of the couch, looks up and blinks at them, swirling something in a red rolo cup and ignoring Peter sitting next to her and chattering into her ear. Bridget's standing over by the snack table, and when Austin goes over, grinning, to annoy the hell out of Jasmine, Bennett goes to see Bridget.

"Ben!" she says when she sees him, smile splitting her face as she hoists a bag of pretzels onto the plastic folding table. "I just got here before you too, I'm putting away the snacks I brought."

Bennett would ask if they were supposed to bring snacks and he didn't hear of it, or forget, but it's Bridget, so they probably weren't asked to and she did it anyway.

"Good to see you," he tells her, giving her a hug when she's relinquished the pretzels, and Bridget hugs back right away.

"You had a good Christmas?" she asks.

"Yeah," he replies. It wasn't so bad, really. He didn't really do much of anything, good or bad.

"Glad to hear it," she tells him, and tucks some of his bangs back before releasing him.

"Sorry!" Luc calls from behind them, trampling down the stairs, and they all turn to look at him as he flies down, apologizing breathlessly.

"Way to show up to the party late," Alison says, dry.

"He's like eight minutes late, Allie," Jasmine tells her.

Alison gestures at her, hands flailing, trying to let her play Luc for fun. Luc rolls his eyes, walks over to Cooper, collapsing to sit next to him without looking and nearly ending up in his lap.

"Please tell me you have something else planned than just sitting around, talking and having snacks," Jasmine asks, looking seconds away from elbowing Peter in the throat to get some space.

Alison does, and they're not actually that bad.

They play Heads Up! first, but they switch over to Taboo after Peter doesn't know who Louis Riel is and Luc nearly hits him.

* * *

 

Bennett eventually taps out to get some space after they've decided to play Sorry! in teams and he and Austin get absolutely creamed. (Bridget, while nice most of the time, is brutal in board games.) He tells Alison, and she waves him off, tells him its fine and she'd rather he do it and feel better than stay to be polite but end up grumpy.

He gets himself a drink first, and the sneaks away into the cool, unlit basement hallway that no one has any reason to go down, since it only leads to the furnace. He leans back against the wall, drops his head back against the wall, gives himself room to breathe, to think in quiet.

He's not sure how long it is before Austin comes looking for him.

"Hey," Austin says, voice easily recognizable to Bennett by now, and he cracks one eye open to look at him.

"Hey," Bennett replies, strangely calm and relaxed, though Austin has no reason to play nice. He has no reason not to, though, and he guesses that's what it comes down to, in that he's come around to trusting Austin in some way without noticing, or at least in the sense that he trusts Austin to stick to behaviour that at least makes some sense, follows some sort of precedent.

He doesn't want to think about that right now, at least not while Austin's right there. "What's up?"

"It's nearly midnight," Austin tells him, stepping closer, and Bennett wonders what he's holding in his hand until he realizes it's the cardigan Bennett had discarded earlier in the warm room full of people. He's chilly now that he's alone in this hallway, less insulated for the predicted lack of traffic, and he wonders how Austin knew when Bennett didn't even notice himself.

"They tell you to come get me?" Bennett asks, taking the cardigan from him when Austin holds it out.

"I don't think they even noticed, actually," he says, which is a little strange.

Bennett cuts him a questioning look. "Why didn't you tell them then? Why come find me?"

Austin shrugs, and Bennett feels uncomfortable that he didn't turn on the light before, wanting the illusion of greater quiet that darkness brings, now making him unable to see Austin's face clearly. "Thought of something, I guess."

"What?"

Austin doesn't reply, just steps forward, pulls the cardigan over Bennett's shoulders, waits until Bennett pulls his arms through the sleeves before pulling it together at the front, even though he doesn't button it. It's like he knew Bennett felt awkward pulling it on mid conversation. Maybe he did, he's guessed greater things about Bennett, but for some reason being able to guess small details feels more disconcerting, seems to say that Austin knows even more about him.

He doesn't pull away though, leaves his hands resting warm on Bennett's stomach and chest, glances up into his eyes, somehow clear even in this near dark, he's so close. Bennett can feel his stomach drop out, nerves more than it is fear, and thinks strangely that Austin must feel it with the way his hand is pressed to him.

"You know there's all these beliefs, superstitions, traditions and all that around new year's, yeah?"

Bennett frowns. He can't see where Austin's going with this. "Yes."

Austin holds his wrist out, turns on the little blue light to display his watch face, checks the time. "Okay, a minute left."

"Austin?" Bennett asks, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Austin breathes in deep through his nose. "You know how there's the whole New Year's kiss?"

Bennett stares at him.

Austin huffs out harshly, and Bennett can tell he's nervous, about to say something mean to brush it off, and when Austin pulls his hands away, leaving Bennett cold where they were, he grabs them with his own. "Go on."

Austin blinks at him, looks their hands and runs one thumb over Bennett's hand, making him shiver just for the strange and uncommon sensory input.

Austin meets his eyes again, looking determined. "Different things, that those people should get closer, that it'll define how the rest of your year goes. I think it says good things. I think we could do with getting along better, being closer."

Bennett can't help a closed lip smile from pulling at his mouth, scrunching up his nose. "You don't have to _convince_  me."

Even though the lighting is dim, Bennett thinks he sees Austin colour up with a blush.

"What's the time?" he asks, letting him off.

Austin pulls his hands away to check. "Twenty seconds."

"You sure?"

Austin gives him an incredulous look. "Of course, I just checked -"

Bennett shakes his head. "Not about the time."

Austin pauses for a moment, silence hanging heavy in the dark. "Yeah, I am. Are you? You've had less time to think about this."

"How long have you been thinking about this?"

Austin shrugs again, and Bennett can see him nervously lick his lips when checking his watch again lights his face in a wash of blue. "Seven."

Bennett closes one hand around his wrist, pulls that hand down to keep Austin from looking at it. "Six," he counts down with him.

Austin meets his eyes. "Five."

Bennett resists the urge to lick his own nervously, thinks of how they'll feel if they kiss. When. "Four."

"Three."

Bennett can feel the hand around Austin's wrist flex mostly unconsciously. "Two."

Austin leans in, and Bennett's breath catches as Austin's breath washes warm over his cheeks, the word softer than the rest when he says, "One."

Austin's forehead taps up against his, gentle, and Bennett's closes his eyes before he feels Austin's mouth press to his.

He expects it to be fuelled, to be angry and competitive and harsh like they seem to let go into all of their kisses, but this really does feel like something between lovers. Austin's slow, tilts his head more and Bennett can feel the brush of their cheeks, a compliment to the soft brush of their mouths.

Austin pulls away slowly, letting their lips drag, and for some reason Bennett starts to laugh into the space between their mouths, thinking of a new year ahead, of his mother telling him in her country they laugh to usher in the new year, asking for good luck.

Austin laughs a little too, soft like he wants it to belong in the quiet dark of the hallway that seems to wrap them in a place of privacy. Austin obviously sounds deeper than Bennett, but he likes it.

There's nothing else to wait for, but Bennett keeps his eyes closed, feels overwhelmed, breathing hard even if there was nothing exerting about the whole thing.

Bennett can feel a hand brush over his cheek before cupping his jaw. "Ben?"

"Nothing, nothing, I'm good," he says, covering Austin's hand with his own, his other coming up to hold his wrist again, thumbing the vein. He opens his eyes to Austin quirking a smile at him.

"If you say so," he says, and Bennett scowls, because he knows when he's being made fun of, but Austin's secretly amused smile blooms into a full grin. "You good to get back to everyone else?"

Bennett feels his thumb brush over the tendon strong in Austin's wrist before he drops his hands. "Yeah."

* * *

 

They come back, no one seeming to think anything of Austin coming to get him, and about a half hour later, Alison claims with indignation that they missed midnight and the New Year.

Bennett, lying on his side and watching some of the others that are still energized play board games, has to roll over to muffle his laughter into his shoulder.

* * *

 

Austin drops him off at nearly 3 in the morning, and he's yawning as he gets up the next morning, sitting at the kitchen island and watching his mother steep tea.

"Yuuto," she says, and he looks up at the sound of his Japanese name. " _We're going out today._ "

He nods in agreement, and that's it until they leave.

His mom doesn't say anything, just goes up to rinse her mug. He knows that means that they're ready to go, and then gets up to go with her to get the food for later that day from the restaurant across their neighbourhood, his mother trying to explain to him how while it wasn't common anymore, many people used to make their own mochi to eat by itself or in the ozōni. She hadn't really done it herself either, but she'd been closer those who knew the culture and tradition than he would ever be.

He's too old to get envelopes now, but he doesn't mind, sitting and listening to his mother speak, painting a picture of a place he's only been once, a place that he can feel in his heart all the same.

Bennett doesn't talk to his grandparents either, not behind the occasional phone call, fuzzy from across the ocean, speaking stilted, dumbed-down Japanese out of what he picked up from his mother and the few years of Japanese school he used to take on Saturdays before his mom pulled him out, his teachers stressing how it was so he could improve his English and keep up with the American kids only speaking one language. He hates it, that he can barely speak to nearly half his family, can't know that part of himself, his accent and knowledge bad enough without his nerves making it worse, tripping him up, reminding him of how unpracticed he is outside of his mother. His confidence shakes until his speaking is basically a garble, his ears burning with embarrassment. His grandparents don't seem to mind, but he hates it anyway, that disconnect. He's only met his grandparents in person once, on the sole trip he took to Japan. He has a grandmother on his Dad's side too, all softly curling white hair, his grandfather having died too long ago for Bennett to remember.

He can't remember the last time he spoke to his Dad, let alone his grandmother by him.

But he doesn't want to think about that now - this is a time for new beginnings.

Takei-san greets them, since his mother used to take him here when he was a kid and he recognizes Bennett, though they don't come here nearly as often.

It's quiet at home, and he and his mother don't talk after, but she lets him eat in front of the TV as long as she can play her Japanese dramas, and it's the nicest evening he can remember having had at home in a long time.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I want you to do well," Bennett says, honest. "I want us both to."
> 
> Austin grins, and it's crooked, like Bennett hasn't seen in so long, but it's earnest too. Bennett's chest warms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am Canadian, I know literally nothing about US geography. Everything in here is what I got from googling. Also my knowledge of the education system is shaky at best. I'm sorry? Take it all with a grain of salt and believe in artistic license.

The first week of school after they get back goes smoothly. Or as smoothly as you can say, considering Jasmine nearly spears Peter in the side with a pencil for asking why her name sounds so white.

Bennett nearly forgets he has the next round of the Spelling Bee to compete in. One he has to go to with Austin.

They get special permission to miss the second half of their classes on the Friday of their second week back, Mr. Oaken promising to act as a teacher chaperone. Bennett's mom barely glances at the paper before she signs it.

Since they're sitting on the Illinois side of the Quad Cities, it isn't that much of a trip to hit up Iowa's capital, though Bennett is shaking out of his skin when he brings his bag with him to catch the greyhound they're taking. His mom drives him, seems distracted when she says goodbye, but he's not offended. Disappointed, but used to it.

Austin's grinning when Bennett comes up to him and Mr. Oaken, his family waiting to see him off while Bennett's mother pulls away. He's sharply reminded of the discomfort of being in their home, of feeling that split between what is his normalcy and what it is for Austin.

They already have tickets and everything, so after they get their bags loaded, Bennett stands with his hands hanging awkward and useless at his side, watching Austin tell his family goodbye, giving him heartfelt hugs and telling them they'll see him soon.

Gem ducks around Austin to look at Bennett, telling him, "Beat him for me."

Mrs. Haroldes admonishes her, tells her they should encourage both of them to do well, but Bennett's laughing. He's grateful for her at least, for never treating him with fragility.

"Good luck, boys," she tells them, smiling sweet, and Austin nods before they both pile onto the bus.

"Sometimes I think you like my sister better than me," Austin grumbles as he takes the window seat.

"I do," Bennett says, and then laughs at Austin's offended look.

* * *

 

When they get to Des Moines, Mr. Oaken leads them into the hotel most of the competitors are staying in, the two of them sharing a room with Mr. Oaken a room over.

"You boys need me, I'll be right next door," he tells them, handing them each a key card.

Bennett unlocks the door, steps inside and then hesitates, but Austin brushes passed him without pause.

The room is quiet, and it makes Bennett feel like he's shaking apart.

In a display surprising to no one, Austin seems completely unaffected and at ease despite having to share a room with Bennett.

Just the thought makes his hands shake.

"You want a certain side?" Austin asks, swinging his bag off of his shoulder.

"Either one," Bennett says, avoiding his eyes.

Austin side-eyes Bennett a little bit, but doesn't say anything anything. Eventually he drops his bag on the bed closer to the door, and farther from the window.

On the one hand, Bennett can have his own space in the room that Austin doesn't have to cross. On the other, he feels slightly closed in and cut off, trapped into his end of the room.

Austin flops onto the bed, bouncing a little, and then after Bennett just stands there a moment in the silence of the room, cracks open one blue eye.

"Ben," he says, sounding curious.

Bennett swallows and comes closer, settling his bags by the foot of his bed before he perches at the end of Austin's

Austin's still watching him, blond hair falling over his face and blue eyes glowing in the dim light.

Bennett's stomach clenches.

"C'mere," Austin says, reaching a hand out. Bennett swallows but moves in, letting Austin curl a hand around the back of his neck and tug him in.

When they kiss, it's slow and easy, warmth crawling through his blood. Bennett pulls away, lets himself feel their breath mixing for a moment, and then lies down, settling next to Austin.

They lie in the dark, pressed side to side, but that just makes him acutely more aware of the warmth of their bodies and soft sighs of their breaths.

"What are you thinking?" Bennett asks, softly. They're alone in the room, somehow Bennett feels like he shouldn't speak too loudly, or it will break their space.

"I think we've got it in the bag," Austin murmurs, a little sleepy, like he's not really listening or willing to deal with Bennett. But his response isn't what Bennett was asking; he doesn't need to know what Austin thinks of their competition chances, he just wants to know what he's thinking. What this moment is, what they are, to Austin?

"Austin," he says, a little softer, a little more pleading. Austin pops open his eyes and looks at him, seeming a little startled.

"Yeah?" Austin prompts, and his voice is deep and thick enough with his sleepy composure that Bennett wants to crawl inside it.

"Do you..." he starts, then stops, unsure.

Austin reaches a hand out, rubs his thumb over Bennett's hip at where it's nudging up against his own. "Go on."

Bennett decides to just say it. "Do you regret anything that's happened?" Austin's silent for a moment, so Bennett elaborates. "Do you regret moving here? Joining the club? Do you regret... this?"

Austin doesn't reply at first, and Bennett can feel his heart climb into his throat.

Then, whispered into the room otherwise empty of sound, "no."

Bennett closes his eyes, overwhelmed. The word is small but it feels big enough to fill him.

"Ben?" Austin whispers, tentative.

"No, me either," his voice sounds choked, and he feels like he should be embarrassed but isn't.

Austin doesn't say anything else, just puts his arm around Bennett's shoulders and pulls him in closer.

* * *

 

There isn't anything for that day, the first round starting tomorrow, and he and Austin have dinner together in the dining room downstairs, a pack of teenagers from all over the midwest.

"So, you going to try to take me out early on?" Austin asks, mouth half full of fries from his fish and chips. Bennett tries not to look at him with too much obvious distaste, but he thinks he's failing and that it's half the reason Austin continues on with it.

"It's an individual competition," Bennett responds. "We all just try to survive as long as possible. There's no way to purposefully target you even if I wanted to."

"So you  _do_  wish you could," Austin says, grin like one made of shark teeth, leaning forward to put his forearms on the table, and Bennett would describe his look as a leer, but that seems a little bit of a... too sexual description for it.

Bennett levels him with a look. "I wish you would quit putting words in my mouth."

Austin grins wider, and Bennett can feel himself flushing even before Austin says, "Could put something else there."

Bennett ducks his head, focuses on his food.

Bennett can feel Austin nudge his leg with a foot. "Hey, sorry. I didn't mean to be like, forceful or anything."

Bennett can feel his face go hotter, knowing Austin wasn't just winding him up, but meant it, at least a little. "Doesn't matter."

"Of course it does."

Bennett glances up, and he thought maybe Austin might look a little bit mean, but he doesn't, expression sincere and a little expectant, waiting.

"I want you to do well," Bennett says, honest. "I want us both to."

Austin grins, and it's crooked, like Bennett hasn't seen in so long, but it's earnest too. Bennett's chest warms.

* * *

 

They meet Mr. Oaken for breakfast the first day of the competition, and Bennett tries to listen attentively even if he already did all of this last year, while he thinks Austin puts all of his focus on his breakfast.

"I hope that bagel was fantastic," Bennett tells him, dry, as they head to the hotel ballroom where the competition is held.

Austin laughs at him a little. "The cream cheese was."

Bennett can't help but snort at that, and Austin's expression cracks into a grin, practically radiant.

There are a lot of people congregated around, mostly adults and family waiting to watch the competition. He doesn't think much of it, walks between them with Austin next to him and Mr. Oaken having left ahead of them to get them signed in.

"Benny," he hears behind him, and the voice is familiar, but there's… There's no way.

Bennett turns around, limbs locked up. He wasn't wrong. "Dad?"

His Dad smiles gently, the crow's feet at his eyes fanning out. Beside him, Austin's tensed, and Bennett's not looking at him but he can feel the concerned wariness radiating off.

"What are you doing here?" Bennett asks, and he means it to sound detached, professional and in control, but there's a slip of emotion in there reminiscent of when he asked his Dad why he had to leave after the divorce.

"I have a conference here, thought I'd come check you out." His Dad's smiling as he says it, but Bennett can feel a snap in his chest. Of course he only comes when he's already nearby for work. Of course. Maybe he's using Bennett to look better, as bargaining tool to move up. It's a mean thought and he's not as sorry as he should be for thinking it.

Bennett almost reaches for Austin's hand, unconsciously seeking comfort, and there's the barest brush of his fingertips across the skin of Austin's knuckles, dry and whisper soft and sweet, before he realizes the instinctive action and flattens his hand back on the side of his thigh, far from touching. His heart feels like it's full of bile, and he's too caught up in his own swirl of emotions to follow Austin's, but Austin doesn't try to reach for his hand back, and Bennett's grateful.

(There's a part of Bennett that knows his Dad's already far away, but he can't stand the thought of losing him twice, watching him drift further.)

"Who's your friend?" his Dad says, and Bennett's stopped trusting what he can tell from his Dad, thinks maybe he hears curiosity but can't tell if it's genuine or feigned, or something he imagines altogether.

Austin jumps in before Bennett can speak. "Austin Haroldes," he introduces himself, holding a hand out towards his Dad, and usually Bennett hates when Austin treats him with fragility, but now he's grateful, not sure he can find the words to speak without something in his voice giving him away.

His dad seems charmed by the gesture. "Brian Cole," he replies, and shakes Austin's hand.

Austin blinks at that, releases the hand shake. "Ah," is all he says.

"You as smart as my kid?" his Dad says, and Bennett can feel his jaw get tight, the blatant favouritism there. It feels like the fans of sports teams who only come around when the team is doing well, only because it's doing well, no real emotional investment.

"I hope so," Austin says, polite still.

Bennett's father laughs, throws his head back to do it. The action makes Bennett inexplicably angry, that his dad acts like he his approval of Bennett's friends is important.

"We have to get going," Bennett says, tense, and Austin is quick to agree with him, back him up.

Bennett's dad nods. "Good luck," he says, and some part of Bennett remembers his mom taking him to a shrine on their trip to Japan, telling him that luck is just prayers, that people that people have to mean them for it to work. It's not a truth of her religion, but it is something she believes, and Bennett is his mother's son.

* * *

 

The rounds go quick. Bennett is number 22, fairly early because of his last name, and Austin is way behind him at 97. Bennett only gets one glance back at him, searching for his seat, before he has to lower himself down to sit and loses any direct line of sight.

Bennett can't see his own dad over the stage lights, but he thinks maybe that's a good thing.

All of them know the process well enough, don't have to be called after the person before them finishes. Nobody gets eliminated until the third round, and then slowly but surely their numbers drop.

Bennett remembers losing last year, going off in the seventh round, and this year they're already in the ninth with him feeling pretty good, warmed by confidence. He's trying not to let it get to his head. He remembers promising himself last year after he'd lost, saying he'd go further, that he'd win, not even settling for in the top three.

He didn't want to be the type that told himself less was okay, created self-fulfilling prophecy, but it doesn't feel as important as it did last year. It feels so much less of an achievement than it seemed to him before, that he doesn't want it half as much as he used to. Feels dim and unfulfilling in comparison.

He's hardly about to throw in the towel on purpose though.

Austin's doing incredibly as well, catching Bennett's eyes with a grin whenever he turns back and has to pass him to sit down. Bennett can feel a smile pulling at the sides of his own mouth more often than not, can feel the genuine part of it in the way his eyes squint a little. It feels so different than the smile he so often pulls on for competitions, one to impress, to be professional, to rattle competitors.

It's just after the eleventh round, after Bennett's given his word, catching Austin's smile over the crowd, that he realizes he's having  _fun_.

His life isn't completely disillusioned, not everything he does he hates, he loves his friends and nearly always has fun with them, but he can't remember the last time the thrill of wanting to win, to dominate, didn't completely override letting him enjoy it.

He loses next round on insouciant, assuming there is an 'H' in it, and Austin gives him a sympathetic look, but Bennett just shrugs back, not that bothered. He's officially twelfth.

Austin loses on syllepsis, thinking there's two 'L's, but he's not bothered, grinning as he comes off the stage at fourth. Bennett's standing by the wall with Mr. Oaken, and he laughs when Austin immediately moves in to hug him. They stand and watch the last of the kids are left, see who the winner is and applaud them.

There's no bitterness in leftover in Bennett's chest, unlike last year, and it's comforting.

* * *

 

He doesn't see his Dad at all on the way back to their room. Some part of Bennett thinks, angry and with little trust in his Dad, that he forgot about him completely.

It wouldn't be the first time.

* * *

 

Mr. Oaken is beaming when he drops them off at their room, tells him he's proud of them. Bennett thought he was insincere last year, trying to give them a consolation, but now he can see in Mr. Oaken's face that he means it.

They'll head back tomorrow, neither he or Austin in the other grade group, and Mr. Oaken tells them the rest of the night is theirs.

When they get into their hotel room, Austin drops his key card down onto the cabinet top before turning to face Bennett. "So that was your dad?"

"Yeah," Bennett says, brushing passed Austin to drop his own card onto the desk in the room, trying to convey with his short words and turned back that he doesn't want to get into a long discussion about it.

"I've never heard you talk about him."

"I told you my parents were divorced."

"You live with your mom, then." It's not a question.

Bennett heaves a sigh and turns around. "What is it you want to know, here?"

Austin wrinkles his nose. "He barely spoke to you."

"That's fairly par for the course. I can't remember the last time he called me outside of holidays, and even then sometimes I just get a card." Bennett doesn't manage to keep the bite of spite out of his voice.

Austin doesn't look at him like he would have before, all raised eyebrows like he's gained information, an exploitation point. His expression is calm as he meets Bennett's challenging look, steady eyes. "Is that less than what you want or all you can stand?"

Bennett ducks his head. "I'm not really sure, sometimes. I think I used to want more, when I was still younger, but I think there's no getting any of that back, not now that he missed getting a teenager along the way. He left his kid and wouldn't know how to reconnect if he came back to an adult, would get stuck with trying to talk to his kid."

Bennett watches Austin feet come closer, and then Austin cups his cheeks, tilts his face up, gentle. "Do you hate him?"

Bennett's quiet for a minute. "I don't know. I think sometimes I want to."

"You're allowed to," Austin says.

Bennett stares back at Austin, tries to read what's in his eyes. "It's not like my family is awful, Austin," he says, voice a little low.

Austin sighs. "Sometimes I'm not sure you're not biased in thinking that."

Bennett steps back, lets Austin's hands fall from his face. "I resent my father. I miss my mother inside the same house. That says nothing on whether I love them or not."

Austin runs a hand back through his hair. "I know that. I just wonder if they're deserving of it."

"That's my fucking  _family_ ," Bennett snaps back.

Austin throws his hands up. "And sometimes it seems like they're more that in name than anything else! Your dad is halfway across the fucking country, barely talks to you, and your mother is so focused on rearing her company she forgets she already  _has_  a kid. And as far as I can tell, there's absolutely no one else."

Bennett can feel his eyes starting to prick with angry tears. "You don't know anything."

"Yeah, well maybe you need an outside perspective to see how things really are," Austin says, words harsh, the edges untouched and still jagged.

"My Dad was amazing when he was still around him. I resent him for taking that from me. My mother is amazing, she's a single parent and she works so hard for me, even if that means she's not around as much. I can't chain her down because I'm a little lonely in the house by myself. I can't be more of a burden to her when she chose to take me on and care for me willingly."

"You're not a burden!" Austin explodes. "You're a person, you're an amazing person, and it should be a  _gift_  to get to keep you."

Bennett's so shocked, he has no words to reply with.

Austin's breathing heavy, shoulders heaving, and he seems to calm a little in the lack of an onslaught of words from Bennett, deflating slightly. "Don't you see that?"

Bennett's voice is hoarse when he speaks. "It's my  _home_."

"It doesn't seem like much of one to me."

Bennett shakes his head. "My dad may be a lost cause, but I... I love my mom. She's not the best at it, but I know... I know she wants the best for me."

Austin scowls. "Are you sure she isn't pushing what she wants onto you?"

Bennett meets Austin's eyes. "I think your parents are smothering," he admits, and Austin flinches. "None of them can be perfect. She's still my mom."

"You don't have to support her out of some sense of loyalty -"

"I'm not," Bennett cuts him off. "I'm telling you that I care about her, that she'll always be my mother, that what you say or think doesn't change that. Maybe you're right, maybe you're wrong. But please respect what I'm telling you, what matters to me."

Austin reaches a hand up and rubs at his eyes. "I just... I want good things for you. I want you to be looked after and happy. I just think you deserve better than what you have."

"I  _am_  happy," Bennett argues. "I don't have everything. But my mom tries her best with a kid on her own, trying to teach her culture, and my friends are better than I ever could have asked for." Austin smiles a little at that. "You can see that right? Understand even if you don't agree."

Austin sighs, shaking his head, but it seems almost fond. He comes forward and wraps Bennett into a hug, and Bennett returns it after hesitating just a second, presses his hands light above Austin's shoulder blades.

Austin rests his chin on top of Bennett's head. "I'm making sure that you're invited over to my house for dinner on a regular basis," Austin says, and Bennett snorts.

* * *

 

They head out to eat, walking around through the streets, idle and without a specific destination in mind.

Austin gasps next to him, and Bennett turns to look at him, confused.

"Ben," Austin says, fervent, grabbing Bennett's arm.

"What?" he says, bewildered.

"It's a Japanese restaurant," Austin tells him, eyes wide. "You have to take me and show me the food."

Bennett arches a brow. "I really don't."

"Pleeeeeeeease," Austin wheedles.

Bennett rolls his eyes, and tries to pull his arm away, but Austin holds fast.

"Dude," Austin says, eyes serious.

"Holy fucking God," Bennett says, and gets a scandalized look from a passing woman. Whoops.

"You must," Austin says, dropping his voice nearly a full octave. Bennett can feel the side of his mouth twitch.

"You're paying," he says, and Austin lets go of him to give out a whooping fistpump.

* * *

 

Austin nearly stabs himself in the eye with a pair of chopsticks as Bennett tries to teach him. Bennett laughs himself sick. Bennett fights with Austin over rolls, since Austin is leaning to the much more western style ones, and he wins, though Austin drowns his in soy sauce while Bennett scrunches his nose at him, judgement evident.

All in all, he considers it a success.

* * *

 

The room feels especially quiet when they get back, even though there's never been anyone but the two of them in it the whole trip.

"You want the bathroom first?" Austin asks, seeming as at ease as possible, leaning over to dig out of the bag he left at the foot of his bed.

Bennett swallows. "Yeah," he says, and goes to grab some sleep clothes and his own toothbrush and toothpaste out of his bag.

When he turns around, he sees Austin casually pulling his shirt over his head, and nearly yelps, watching the smooth, tanned skin of back revealed.

Austin looks over his shoulder at him when he notices how quiet Bennett's side of the room is. "Something up?"

Bennett shakes his head, mute, and hurries into the washroom.

* * *

 

He and Austin switch, easy as anything, but Bennett feels awkward about lying down before Austin is even out, all the lights still on. He lies on his bedspread, reads from a book he brought with him.

He doesn't think much of it when Austin comes out of the bathroom, sees the spill of light from it turn off and hears the click of the door closing.

Then the bed bounces as Austin throws himself to lie down next to him. "What are you reading?"

Bennett rolls his eyes, puts the book on the night stand, because it's a lost cause now. "Nothing really important."

"Good," Austin says, and then cups Bennett's cheek, kissing his jaw, just a few presses of his lips. He pulls back to see Bennett's face, trails the hand away, pressing at his shoulder until Bennett rolls, Austin immediately covering him and bracketing him with his arms. He wastes no time in dropping his head and kissing Bennett soundly.

Bennett can feel himself open up to Austin immediately, both in the physical meeting of their mouths and in the sense of his emotions, his trust. It's a long way from their first kiss.

Austin tilts his head a little further, the kiss turning dirty fast. It's strange to Bennett that this seems so much easier now, when the only practice he's had is Austin himself. Maybe that's part of the reason why - there is no apprehension at being with someone brand new.

Austin lowers himself onto Bennett more, and he can feel the way Austin's chubbing up, gasps into his mouth as his own body starts to respond. Before seemed leisurely, pleasant, but now there's a restlessness, an urgency under his skin whereas seconds ago he would have been content to kiss lazy and slow for hours.

Austin still lacks a shirt, apparently sleeping just in pajama pants, and Bennett's hands press into the naked skin, warm and smooth under his fingers.

"Fuck," Austin says, pulling back, and he urges Bennett to sit up too. Bennett does, among confusion, and then Austin's grappling with his shirt to pull it over his head.

Bennett gasps, but then Austin is kissing him again, hands cradling his jaw so his fingers overlap and meet at the nape of his neck, digging in just the slightest bit like he needs something to grip. Bennett grabs at Austin's shoulder with one hand, the other at his back. When Austin presses him down onto the bed again, that hand slips, scratching down his back.

Austin hisses, and Bennett opens his mouth with an apology on his lips, but Austin's also shoving his hips forward and moving to straddle Bennett's thigh, which,  _oh_.

He likes being scratched.

Austin begins to lean down to kiss him again, but Bennett holds him back with a hand to his chest. Austin stops, looking bewildered before some of the haze clears from his eyes. "Too fast?"

Bennett shakes his head. "Pants."

Austin's breath catches for a moment, before his eyes go dark and he's scrambling off of Bennett to pull the soft cotton pants off.

He pauses after they're on the ground. "Do you...?"

"Help me," Bennett says, lifting his hips up with his hands in the waistband, Austin instantly coming forward, nearly tripping, to grab onto the leg of Bennett's pants and help him pull them off, nearly fumbling his grip.

Bennett stares at Austin when they're off, and Austin tenses up, seeming to take something bad from the silence and the intent look on his face. "You're not one of those teenage boys who gets clumsy as soon as sex comes up, are you?"

Austin arches an eyebrow, the rigid look to him melting away. "You do know I've sucked your dick, right?"

Bennett can feel himself blush at that, even if he's already lying out on a bed in just in his underwear. "Come here," he says instead, and Austin does, which makes Bennett pleased, sends a curl of satisfaction out from his chest.

He thinks he could order Austin around, that despite being taller and heavier and stronger, that Austin would let him. It just ratchets up the expectation he's feeling.

Austin moves to cover Bennett again, meet his mouth, but Bennett stops him, gets a hand in his hair and manhandles him so that he's between Bennett's legs. "Here, here," he tells him.

Austin's breathing has turned into a staccato rhythm, each exhale forceful against his skin. He obeys, in a sense, nosing at the skin of Bennett's inner thigh. Bennett keeps the hand in his hair, but he doesn't guide him anywhere, just feels where he is.

Austin bites at the skin, and Bennett gasped, the spike of sensation expected, before Austin pulls the flesh into his mouth, sucking on it. He moves up Bennett's right thigh, kissing it, before he stops at the line of his briefs, just noses at the skin there.

It takes Bennett a second to realize he's waiting for  _permission_ , and then it's like he's burning inside.

He lets go of Austin's hair, and Austin takes that as what it is, that he can make the decision, and he immediately taps Bennett's hip, gets him to tilt them so he can pull Bennett's underwear off.

"You sure?" Bennett asks, voice sounded almost winded as he watches Austin toss the piece of clothing aside.

Austin snorts. "Hell yeah," he says, and Bennett would roll his eyes, but then Austin is leaning down between his legs again, mouthing at his balls.

Bennett hisses out a breath between his teeth, and Austin moves up to take him into his mouth. Bennett fists his hands in the sheets, but it isn't long before Austin pulls up, grasping one of Bennett's hands and moving it to the back of his head.

Bennett feels like he's burning up as Austin goes down on him again, surprised by it enough that he pulls at Austin's hair by accident, and Austin groans around his cock.

Fuck, well, he's certainly learning some things here.

He pumps his hips a little, experimental and hesitant, but Austin just takes it, practically moans, takes Bennett as deep as he can and starts to choke a little before Bennett pulls him off by the grip on his hair.

Austin looks at him, breaths a little laboured, eyes watering, and rasps, "What? Shouldn't you  _like_  getting blown?"

Bennett resists rolling his eyes. "Not if you're going to asphyxiate yourself."

Austin snorts, pulls at the grip Bennett has on his hair, noses as his thigh and bites down again. Bennett lets out a surprised exhale.

"Let me take care of you," Austin murmurs, lips dragging over his skin.

"You don't always have to blow me, you know," Bennett protests, more out of propriety than anything. He can feel himself losing balance, tipping over the railings and into the ocean, lost in the tide.

Austin meets his eyes before he flicks his gaze away again, cheeks going ruddy. "I like it."

Oh fuck.

Bennett's breath catches, and he pets over the back of Austin's head, tells him, "Go ahead," in a hoarse voice, like he's the one that's been stretching his mouth.

Austin does immediately, which is kind of flattering, bobs his head and digs his fingers into Bennett's thighs, leaving the skin around them white. Bennett knows the one he got in the supply closet at Jefferson was the first time Austin had ever given a blowjob, and he's already learned from that, even picking up as he goes now, improving quickly. It leaves Bennett breathless, trembling as Austin gets sloppy, muscles in his mouth tired from working his mouth and cheeks, drooling slightly.

"Austin, Austin," he says, tugging Austin's hair as he can tell he's at the edge, and Austin just goes deeper, lets go of his thigh with one hand so he can wrap around what he can't get into his mouth.

He goes off, lies there boneless, feels vaguely like he should be responsible about cleaning up and such, but Austin kisses his jaw, gets up and gets a damp washcloth to clean off what he couldn't make into his mouth.

Bennett lets his head flip to the side, looks at Austin as he goes back into the bathroom, seems to throw the washcloth into the sink by the sound of it. He seems to be surprised to see Bennett looking at him when he gets out. "Hey," he says.

"Come here," Bennett tells him, and Austin does, looking bemused.

Austin sits by his hip, and it's so reminiscent of when he was in Austin's bedroom at Thanksgiving, their positions reversed, that it makes him ache. He pulls Austin in, kisses him, and Austin melts into the touch, any wariness he'd carried when Bennett had called him over rolling off of him.

"I may not always like you," Bennett tells him, getting Austin to laugh into the space between their mouths, "but you matter me to me, somehow, some way."

Austin doesn't laugh at that, instead sighs softly, ducks his head into Bennett's neck instead of kissing him. "Me too. You know that, right?"

"Most of the time," Bennett says, and he can feel Austin's smile. He drags one hand down Austin's back, plays at the waistband of his boxer-briefs, and Austin's breath catches. "Can I?"

Austin nods, and Bennett hooks his thumb in, starts to tug it off, Austin pulling back to remove it completely.

Last time, in the small storage closet, Bennett didn't actually look at Austin's dick, just put his hand in his pants and gave him a handjob that way. He's blushing now, looking at it, longer than his own.

He brings his eyes up to Austin's. "What do you want?"

Austin rubs the back of his neck with his palm. "Whatever you're comfortable with."

Bennett rolls his eyes, and Austin smacks him on the ribs, protesting, "Dude, you would barely look me in the eyes last time, and you seemed to want to do it more to return the favour. I really don't care."

Bennett shrugs. "If I did everything based on my comfort zone, I'd barely do anything at all."

It gets Austin to smile, which is what he was trying to do. "Fine, have at it," he says, and then, like he's challenging Bennett and expecting him to chicken out and prove his point, reclines onto the bedspread, hands folded behind his head.

Bennett crawls up between his legs, pushes them further apart, watches Austin's eyes widen gratifyingly and takes a deep breath, bracing, before he noses along the crease of where Austin's thigh meets his hip.

"Ben, you don't have to -" Austin starts, sounding frantic, and Bennett bits the skin, chastising, getting Austin's breath to catch.

"I have never done this before," Bennett tells him, honest. "I'm going to do it anyway."

Austin chokes on a laugh, and then Bennett moves to nose at his curls at the base of cock, and the sound promptly dies. Austin's smell is stronger here, his body and his sweat, musky and caught in the hair, and he thinks it's maybe a little much for him, pulls back and assesses Austin's dick.

His fits his mouth over, just kind of suckling there for a bit, not that Austin seems to mind. He pulls off, brushes his mouth up and down, before he takes Austin back into his mouth and tries to sink down further.

He can't go very far without discomfort, feels embarrassed by just how much he has leftover to cover with the hand he brings to wrap around it, but Austin hardly seems to mind, his breath catching and then letting out all in a rush from his chest.

"Fuck, Ben," he whispers, and Bennett hollows his cheeks, tries to suck harder, seems to succeed by the punched out sound Austin makes. "You should - ungh - you should off if you don't want this shit in your mouth."

Bennett nearly snorts at the way Austin talks in bed, but he pulls off, finishes Austin off by jacking him with his hands. Austin drops his head back after, even though he'd been watching either Bennett's hands or face with wide eyes before.

"Right back," Bennett tells him, pats his hip before going to the bathroom, and the washcloth from earlier is sitting in the sink. Bennett doesn't particularly want to touch it, but there's no point in dirtying two, so he fishes it out and goes back to where Austin is sprawled. Austin merely groans when Bennett wipes him down, and Bennett rolls his eyes to himself, deposits the washcloth bath in the sink but this time full of water, hopes at least some of it will wash off instead of stain.

He crawls onto the bed next to Austin, who has an arm flung across his eyes. Bennett watches him, a little amused, asks, "Are you taking my bed now? Are we swapping?"

Austin takes the arm away, looks at Bennett with bleary eyes. "Stay with me?"

Bennett blinks in surprise, but he nods, gets up to put his sleep clothes back on, turn off the light, before he gets under the covers, curls into Austin's shoulder, skin warm.

He pulls away maybe five minutes, too warm, but neither of them leave the bed the whole night, sleeping soundly even while Bennett can't remember the last time he shared a bed, an only child too old for sleepovers.

It's nice, and he doesn't know what to think of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell if it's awkward or not to have Bennett's dad introduced in the same chapter as a sex scene. Enh. *shrug*


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Where'd you place?" Luc asks, curious.
> 
> "Fourth," Austin answers.
> 
> "Twelfth," Bennett says right after.
> 
> Alison turns around to give Bennett and commiserating look. "That sucks."
> 
> Bennett shrugs. "I don't really mind. I think I did pretty well, though I would have liked to squeak into the top ten."
> 
> Half the group turns to look at him, staring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I've done a lot of shuffling around as I second guess where I want certain plot points to go. So it's not that I was too buy to write because of real life, but more that I was busy with my own story, which is ironic.

The bus ride back is calm, morning light filtering through the windows, Austin nearly dozing next to him with his headphones in.

He looks so soft like that, and it gets to Bennett a little, that he knows him. Austin is more than the boy that walked in beginning of October, one Bennett hated immediately. There's still a part of Bennett that will always resent Austin, the biting words he whips across Bennett's skin, leaves him stinging. But Austin is also so much more than that by now, so much more to Bennett.

He trails a hand across Austin's wrist and the back of his hand, and Austin turns his head to him, smiles with bleary eyes.

Bennett smiles back, and Austin knocks his ankle with a foot, making him laugh. Austin seems to take that as permission to bully one of his earbuds onto Bennett, making him listen to his music.

He's annoying as fuck. Bennett still likes it.

* * *

 

It's only after Bennett's gotten home, taking a shower sunday night, that he notices Austin left a hickey on his inner thigh.

Oh, he is going to  _kill_  him.

* * *

 

He wants to drag Austin aside immediately into school, chastise him in hushed tones, but that would be fair too obvious. Instead, when he sees Austin at school on Monday morning, leaning against the locker bank most of the club has claimed, he shoots him a glowering look, though Austin's mouth just twitches into self satisfied smirk. He obviously knows exactly what Bennett's look is about.

"How was the Spelling Bee?" Jasmine asks casually, digging through her locker and snapping the gum she's chewing.

"Pretty good," Austin says.

"Where'd you place?" Luc asks, curious.

"Fourth," Austin answers.

"Twelfth," Bennett says right after.

Alison turns around to give Bennett and commiserating look. "That sucks."

Bennett shrugs. "I don't really mind. I think I did pretty well, though I would have liked to squeak into the top ten."

Half the group turns to look at him, staring.

"What?" Bennett snaps, defensive.

"You sulked for like two weeks after we got third in the Scholastic Decathlon last year," Jasmine points out.

Bennett can feel his face scrunch up, making a sour expression. "Yeah, but that's... different."

Jasmine arches an eyebrow at him, expression disbelieving. "Okay," she says, pulling out the 'y' sound.

Bennett gives her an unimpressed look, but she seems more curious than scolded.

Great, now he has to deal with that later too.

* * *

 

When Bennett gets to the group at lunch, it's unusually quiet

He pulls Jasmine subtly aside. "What's going on?" he whispers.

She drops her voice in accordance with his own. "Luc and Cooper are fighting. Again."

Oh. That's unusual.

"Do you know why?" he asks, feeling the furrow in his brow.

Jasmine just shakes her head, and he lets her go with a thank you.

"You don't know either?" Austin asks, appearing at his back. Bennett's too used to him to startle.

"No," Bennett tells him as he turns to face him, a pensive frown on his face.

Austin places his thumb where Bennett's skin is bunched up between his eyebrows. "Relax; we'll figure it out."

There's something about the 'we' of that statement, the conviction of it, that makes Bennett shiver. They've conquered competitions together and faced down every opponent, they have more strength united, they could move mountains together. There's no hesitation from Austin to think of this as something for the both of them to handle.

But this all still feels a little public, too vulnerable and revealing for something that's on display.

He bats Austin's hand aside, plays up his scowling face. "I still  _worry_."

Austin just laughs. "Oh, I know that."

Bennett resists the urge to flip him the finger while in school, just pulls a face at him instead.

He still remembers Emery, grilling them about the debate competition against Jefferson, the implication in his words that he said without thought, that anyone could say and Bennett could prove by accident. It's not something he wants to do.

Alison jumps onto Bennett's back next, catching his attention. "You guys ready for school picture day in a week? Peter says it's dumb to where a skirt when the pictures are usually cut at the waist, but I think he's just angry he can't get away with wearing a nice shirt and pajama pants."

From behind Bennett, he hears Peter disclaim, "I am not!"

* * *

 

He manages to catch Austin before he sits down for Physics, snags his sleeve as Austin's heading for the classroom doorway and pulls him aside.

"You can't be doing that," Bennett hisses when he's dragged them to the small alcove made for the water fountain, the hallway traffic flowing passed them. Enough people are speaking to give off a buzz of background noise, making them less noticeable.

"No one's going to see it, Ben," Austin replies, part amused, part exasperated.

"That's - that's not the point," Bennett fumbles, frustrated. "You do know that those are usually some sort of like, claiming act?"

Austin frowns. "Yeah, maybe if I put it on your neck so you could show it off. I didn't. It's something we can just do because it's enjoyable."

"I'm -" Bennett starts, stops, tries to reconfigure his words. "I don't want you leaving hickeys on my thighs like I'm some dirty secret on the side lover."

Austin raises an eyebrow. "Okay, where do you want them, then?"

Bennett nearly growls, lets out a huff instead. "That's not the point."

Austin leans over slightly, puts them eye to eye. "Then tell me what you mean. Talk to me honestly, straight on, and tell me what you're trying to say."

Bennett stares back, heart beating hard, feeling caged in. He doesn't like it, knows he ducks out of things with his words, but he's spent too long with his mother's words of  _never let someone see all the cards in your hand_  to break the habit easily.

"Wouldn't it bother you?" he asks, lowering his voice further.

Austin's brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, that," Bennett stammers again, then restarts, speaks clearly, "Wouldn't it bother you that you're with a guy and you're the one that ends up walking away marked up?"

Austin blinks at him, seems to stand straight again in surprise. "I'm - I'm not trying to imply you're the bottom or -"

"Stop, stop," Bennett cuts him off, can feel his face flushing at Austin saying that. "I know that, but it's - We're both guys, which is off in the first place, so I don't want you to treat me like -"

"Whoa," Austin starts, looking a little alarmed. "What do you mean, off?"

Bennett frowns. "It's not exactly  _normal_."

"That's bullshit."

"Right, and where do you hear 'Awesome, let's go to this party, it sounds gay!'" He mocks.

"That's -" Austin pulls a hand through his hair, sweeping it back off his forehead.

"Exactly my point," Bennett interjects. "No one uses it as a complimentary word, Austin."

Austin buries his face in his hands. "Fuck," he says, muffled, before pulling them away, meeting Bennett's eyes again. "That's because they're assholes. There's nothing wrong with any of it."

Bennett can feel his mouth press into a line, disbelieving.

"Look," Austin starts again, glancing at his watch. They probably don't have much time until class starts, Bennett realizes. "I've dated girls before, you know that. The way I feel about you? No different. If anything, it's better, because you don't fucking let me get away with shit anything."

Bennett cocks an eyebrow at him, crosses his arms. "Am I supposed to?"

Austin rolls his eyes. "No. That's my point."

Oh.

"We'll talk about this more later," Austin promises, taking hold of Bennett's arm. "Right now? We have class."

* * *

 

Bennett has two more periods before his day ends, and Austin comes to their locker bank while Bennett's still sorting through what he needs to take home. Some of the group glances at him, since he doesn't usually stop by, but nobody really questions him on it. Especially not Cooper and Luc, who are resolutely ignoring the rest of what's around them.

"What do you want?" Bennett asks without looking up.

Austin doesn't say anything, waits until Bennett stops and gives him an impatient look. "Do you have a second?"

Jazz glances over at them with suspicion, but Bennett waves her off. "I have to catch the bus in a few minutes. You want to talk, you're going to end up driving me home."

Austin shrugs. "Sure."

Bennett blinks at him, but Austin doesn't even mock him, let alone tell him he's just joking, instead stares back at Bennett with serious eyes to prove his intention.

"Okay," Bennett agrees, and that's that.

Jasmine hangs back the longest, but eventually she has to catch the bus with everyone else, just gives Bennett an intense look that he can translate to  _call me if you need me_.

Bennett rolls his eyes at her, and she sticks her tongue out in response before whirling around and stalking off.

"Does she think I'm going to murder you and leave you in a vat of acid?" Austin mutters.

"Could be," Bennett says, finally shutting his locker. "C'mon, you're driving me home."

Austin raises an eyebrow at him. "I thought we were going to talk?"

"We are," Bennett affirms. "I'd just rather do it somewhere I don't have to lean against cold metal while feeling paranoid that a custodian could turn the corner at any moment."

Austin's mouth twitches. "Well then. To the parking lot."

* * *

 

Austin doesn't start the car when they get in, looking at Bennett expectantly.

Bennett takes a deep breath, braves himself, and says, "Did you want to come over?"

Austin blinks, eyebrows rising, but he faces away from Bennett and turns the ignition.

* * *

 

Bennett leads Austin inside, feels stiff unlocking his front door and self-concious of the silent emptiness inside.

"So," he says awkwardly, waving Austin in passed him, "this is my house."

Austin looks around, curious. He wanders away from Bennett, heads to the spotless living room, his attention catching on the grand piano. "You play this?"

"Yeah," Bennett answers, closing the door behind him and trailing Austin into the living room.

Austin flickers a look at him. Bennett can tell he want to hear him play, but wants to talk first. Bennett would like to take the out, but he knows he shouldn't, doesn't want to duck away from everything. He sits down on the couch, looks at Austin and waits.

Austin rounds the couch so he can sit beside Bennett, frowns when he meets his eyes. "You can't really think that about same sex relationships. You can't think that about yourself."

Bennett flinches.

Austin leans forward at his reaction, even more intent to get his point across. "There is  _nothing_  fucking wrong with it."

"Look, maybe that's what the people around you are willing to tell you, but it's not what I hear," Bennett tells him, and Austin's expression crumples.

"Your parents -"

"I don't talk to my dad much as it is," Bennett cuts him off, clipped. "My mom? She moved here before I was born, and she sticks to a lot of the values she brought with her so she feels connected to where she came from. I'm not exactly sure how same sex relationships are viewed right now in Japan, but twenty years ago? That's something I can probably guess with accuracy. I think people are coming around, but it's still not something that you discuss right out."

Austin rubs his hands over his face. "It's not fair of her to put that on you."

"You're talking like this is everything to me," Bennett says calmly.

"I remember how you flinched when I touched you after Emery implied we were together!" Austin explodes. "I remember how you shrunk away, how you looked scared, how you get this shielded look in your eyes the second you think anyone around us can guess. That's not a casual reaction."

Bennett grinds his teeth. "I'm Scholastic Club President. I'm on Student Council, debate, and the National Honor Society. I'm not going to prove to everyone that wants to watch me fall that I was a fuck up all along."

"You're  _not_ ," Austin says, fervent, sits up onto his knees so he can cup Bennett's face. "You're not. You're brilliant and stubborn and the most dedicated person I've ever known."

Bennett can feel his eyes sting with oncoming tears. "And not a bit of it will matter if anyone finds out that I've fucked around with a guy."

Austin takes a deep breath, looks broken up for Bennett.

Bennett speaks before Austin can. "I'm not even sure I'm gay, Austin. There's something with you, I know that, but it's... I'm confused about it. It's all over the place and I can't say I'm attracted to a lot of guys at all, really."

Austin shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. You shouldn't be afraid to be with someone, to even question yourself about what kind of person you want to be with."

Bennett ducks his head, dislodges Austin's hands. "I'm not going to let everyone down," he says, voice hoarse.

"Who would you be letting down?"

Bennett screws his eyes shut. "I'm all my mother has. I'm not going to tell her that our family ends with me. She's taken care of me my whole life; I owe her that much."

"She's your parent- she choose to have you and raise you," Austin argues. "You don't owe her anything. You don't owe her lying to yourself."

Bennett shakes his head, looks at Austin again. "I owe her everything. She's my mother, and the only one who took care of me."

"Well, she did a pretty shit job, in my opinion," Austin says, gritted.

Bennett can feel his frustration rise, his emotions getting crossed so that his eyes fill with tears. "Thank you for the fucking vote of confidence towards my mom raising a good kid."

Austin's eyes widen. "No, fuck, I meant that your mom leaves you alone all the time. You turned out amazing in  _spite_  of that."

"You've never even fucking seen my mother," Bennett spits, and Austin's mouth presses into a line.

"Says a lot, doesn't it?" he bites back.

Bennett shakes his head. "You can't judge someone you've never so much as spoken to or seen face to face."

"I beg to differ."

"Then hold off on it, because she's  _my_  mother," he begs, soft. Bennett knows it's a gamble, that they're rocky with each other all the time, that Bennett would call Austin a friend, admit he cares about him if pushed, but can't tell how far any of this goes on Austin's side of things.

Austin sighs. "I... I don't like her because of you, because I think she's hurt you and hasn't done enough. But yeah, I can do that."

Bennett reaches up, rubs at his forehead, like he's taking out the tension, the ache leftover after the relief filters in. "Thank you."

Austin nods, though he still doesn't look happy. "She could do better by you, you know. You shouldn't have to be afraid of your own parent."

"I'm afraid of her because I love her," Bennett replies, calm. "I'm afraid of her because her opinion is everything to me, and it would break me if I let her down."

Austin's silent in the wake of that, so Bennett stands up.

"You wanted me to play piano for you?" he asks, and a ghost of a smile twitches at the corner of Austin's mouth.

He plays some of Chopin's nocturnes, plays Fur Elise for fun because he knows Austin will recognize it, which he does, snorting. Bennett smiles in response, plays some Mozart from he learned when he was in Grade 8 of piano, and then taps out something more modern that his piano teacher had recommended he look at possibly performing for their concert. He hasn't quite got it right yet, fumbles when he crosses hands while trying to maintain the tempo of the piece.

Austin still looks incredibly impressed, and Bennett laughs at the look on his face even as he walks Austin out, all while Austin argues that  _why are you laughing like it's simple, that was fucking incredible, you just played that looking like you were just doing something as simple as writing out a grocery list_.

* * *

 

Bennett tries to text Luc after school, sends  _Did you want to talk?_

 _Just want to think rn_ , he receives a few minutes later, and then, in quick succession,  _At the park Cooper and I go to_ ,  _want some time to myself_.

Bennett can understand that, but sometimes it gets to be a bit dangerous, being too far entrenched in your own head, ending up blind to what's outside of it.

He settles on sending  _Let me know._

* * *

 

Luc doesn't call or text. Bennett tries not to be worried.

* * *

 

Bennett's mother gets home at nine in the evening, and half an hour after, Bennett gets the worst phone call of his life.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bennett breathes deep, and then dials the next person.
> 
> He goes through Bridget, who starts tearing up, not visible to Bennett through the line but audible by the hitching of her breath; to Alison, who would come across stony if Bennett couldn't hear the creak in her voice on the verge of breaking; to Peter who breathes harsh through his nose and seems to only be able to listen to Bennett, can barely process it himself, let alone voice it.
> 
> He still can't get a hold of Cooper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took way longer than I expected it to, and I'm still not entirely happy with it. I think I built this chapter up in my head so much that when I wrote it, it didn't meet my own expectations. I also re-wrote parts of it multiple times, but at this point, I think this is as close as to what I imagine the mood to be as I can manage to get it right now. I might re-work it more later but that likely won't be for a while, if I do.

Bennett calls Austin immediately, knows his mom doesn't care where he goes but he's afraid she'll bar him simply for asking her to take him so late.

Austin picks up three rings in, voice confused. "Ben?"

"I need your help," Bennett blurts.

Austin immediately snaps to attention. "What do you need?"

Bennett can feel a rush of relief through him, takes a moment to breathe and be grateful for Austin. "I need a ride."

* * *

 

Bennett's watching the window for when Austin pulls up, doesn't even have to wait for Austin to call before he's leaving, closing the front door behind him. He always tells his mom goodbye, but this time he doesn't, just ducks out and hopes she'll go to bed without noticing.

He piles into Austin's passenger seat, throwing the door shut and fastening his seatbelt in a rush before he even turns to look at Austin, who's watching him with worried and calculating eyes.

"You never said where we needed to go."

Bennett takes a deep breath. "Trinity Hospital."

Austin stares at him, eyes wide. "Who for?"

"Luc," Bennett answers, reluctant to tell Austin, to drag him down with him.

Austin's face washes white, and he puts the car into drive.

* * *

 

Bennett calls Jasmine on the way there.

She picks up after he dials her twice, voice grumpy. "What do you  _want_  Ben? It's nearly ten."

"Luc's in the hospital," he says, clipped. "Can you meet us there?"

"Shit," Jasmine hisses, something clattering in the background. He can hear her putting her hand over the mouthpiece, talking in urgent Mandarin to what must be one of her parents. "Which hospital?"

"Trinity."

"How are you getting there? How did you know?"

"Austin's taking me. Luc's dad is the one who called me; he didn't want Luc to feel alone knowing only one person had waited for him. He tried to call Cooper first but he didn't pick up."

"Of course not, they're still fighting. Fucking shit. Wait until you call the others, okay? See if we're allowed to wait for him and then call me and I'll assemble the rest of us. You get there to handle Luc's dad."

Bennett breathes a sigh of relief. "Thanks Jasmine."

"No problem. Now tell Austin to get his ass in gear."

Bennett looks over at Austin after he's hung up, sees the straight furrow of his brow, pulled low. He knows he doesn't have to tell Austin anything, that he already knows.

* * *

 

Bennett calls Luc's father when they're pulling into the parking lot, and Luc's father answers breathlessly, tells them he'll meet them in the lobby. Bennett thanks him and hangs up, gets out of the car, takes a deep breath of the chill night air.

Austin rounds the car, comes up to Bennett, bumping their shoulders, his body warmth transferring just a touch at the contact. "You okay?"

"No," Bennett answers truthfully. "But I need to go in anyway."

Austin's nose scrunches, face creasing. "If you're sure."

Bennett turns and looks Austin in the eyes. "He needs me a lot more than I need time to myself right now," he says, and that seems to be enough for Austin, who waves him towards the hospital doors.

* * *

 

Luc's father meets them just inside the lobby, the night air making everything unsettlingly still. He looks harried, hair mussed and eyes wild.

"Bennett, I'm sorry to ask this of you so late," he tells him, rubbing a hand at his forehead.

"Not under your control," Bennett responds.

"I'm Maurice," Luc's father introduces himself to Austin, makes a quick handshake. "I would have liked to talk to you further another time, but we'll just have to make do under circumstances."

Austin nods, his expression more grave and serious than Bennett has ever seen it. It doesn't suit his face, his disposition, at all. The whole world has tilted on its axis.

"I'm not sure they'll let all of you wait, or even any of you, since you're friends and not family, but... I had to at least try, when his mother won't come and it would only be me. It's not fair to him," Maurice says, mouth a grim line.

Bennett knows scant pieces of information about Luc's life that he's mostly been able to piece together into a more complete picture. His father moved away from Quebec years before Luc was born, ended up playing the Anglo part in Luc being raised bilingual; his mother is the one who's born and raised French-Canadian; born in Quebec City; that he's gay and that played a part in his parent's divorce.

Maurice supports Luc. Bennett doesn't know if he just lucked out in the custody battle and is the one who will let Luc be himself, or if Luc's mother never fought for him at all after finding out. Bennett's never asked, isn't sure he wants to know.

Austin looks a little confused even among the tense lines of his expression, and Bennett takes control, tells Maurice. "He matters to us too. We want to be here."

Maurice smiles a little at that, eyes and expression still tired, but genuinely grateful. "I'll see if I can get you in the waiting room with me."

* * *

 

Maurice argues with the nurses at the station, words tense and expression stony, but he doesn't succeed. He won't give it up nonetheless, so eventually Bennett pulls him away by a hand on his shoulder, tells him it's all right.

"It's not," Maurice says, terse.

Bennett shakes his head. "You have to respect the policy, it exists for a reason. We can come back and wait for him at normal visiting hours, okay? You -" Bennett has to take a moment to swallow, "You said he probably wouldn't be awake, or at least coherent until tomorrow."

Maurice nods, runs a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm making you act the adult. I'm just worried about him. Come tomorrow if you can spare the time for it."

Austin puts a firm hand on Maurice's shoulder, bracing him. "We'll make time for it. Try to sleep yourself, okay?"

Maurice's smile is tired more than anything, half amused more in his mouth than his eyes. "Easier said than done, but I'll try for him."

* * *

 

Bennett calls Jasmine on his way out of the hospital, and she sounds frantic, wondering if Luc's gotten worse, but he tells her, voice as calm as he can keep it, about the fact that they can't wait or visit him at this time.

Jasmine's breath hisses down the line. "That's ridiculous."

"It's not, we'll see him tomorrow, all of us. I'll call the others."

"No, don't you dare hang up on me," Jasmine snaps. "What happened to him? Is he even going to be okay tomorrow?"

Bennett's silent for only a beat. "He feel off the footbridge at the park he and Cooper frequent. Seems pretty scratched up, but mostly they're worried about a concussion or possible brain damage. It's pretty isolated out there, so they're not sure how long he was out until the person who called in came across him."

Jasmine draws in a harsh breath, audible. In his periphery, Bennett can see Austin's hands tighten on the steering wheel. Jasmine says something in Mandarin, just barely breathed out, and Bennett doesn't know what it is, a cuss or a prayer.

"We'll see him tomorrow," he repeats.

Jasmine's quiet only a moment. "We're going as soon as the visiting hours are open. Call the others."

She hangs up.

Bennett breathes deep, and then dials the next person.

He goes through Bridget, who starts tearing up, not visible to Bennett through the line but audible by the hitching of her breath; to Alison, who would come across stony if Bennett couldn't hear the creak in her voice on the verge of breaking; to Peter who breathes harsh through his nose and seems to only be able to listen to Bennett, can barely process it himself, let alone voice it.

He still can't get a hold of Cooper.

* * *

 

By the time Austin's dropped him off, it's closer to eleven than ten.

"You'll be okay?" Austin asks, voice low, when Bennett's got his hand on the door handle.

Bennett looks back at him, frowns. "I'm not the injured one."

Austin's lips thin. "I'm worried you haven't got enough support in there."

Bennett breathes out harshly, tries to keep calm. "I'm not going over this again."

"I'm not trying to upset you," Austin says, steady. "I just want you to know that if your mom leaves you alone in this, that you don't even feel fit to tell her and she doesn't even notice anything is wrong, I'm here for you, okay? You can call me when it's already dark and tell me you need a ride and I'll come without you having to explain." He's joking a bit, a shine in his blue eyes and a quirk to his lips that the streetlight a few houses down barely catches. Bennett can feel his breathe stall, but he- he can't do this right now. Not with everything else.

"I know," Bennett whispers, not sure if he's telling himself or Austin.

Austin reaches out, cups Bennett's face and brushes his cheekbone as soft as a butterfly's wing, soft as sunlight on an upturned face, soft as a fall breeze that rustles the leaves but doesn't toss them.

Austin pulls his hand back, and Bennett takes in a sharp breath. "I'll see you tomorrow," he says, and is out of the car before Austin can reply.

* * *

 

His mother's awake when he comes inside, and she gets up from her perch on a stool at the island as soon as he comes into the room, scowl firm on her face.

Bennett winces. "Mom," he greets.

Her eyes cut straight through him. "Where have you been?" she says, voice so calm it's chilling.

"A friend was hurt, I went to look after them," he says, which is the best explanation he can give.

"Yuuto," she reprimands, and he nearly jumps at the sound of his Japanese name, so uncommon for her to use to refer to him by, "you can't go off late in the evening, especially without telling me where you're going."

Bennett presses his lips together, fortifies himself. "You wouldn't have let me go, and I needed to. I thought..." he trails off, the look in her eyes cold enough to freeze water into ice, but continues, "I thought you might not notice."

His mother's expression crumples. "Yuuto," she says, soft, a complete opposite to how she'd spoken it before. She comes towards him, enfolds him into her arms, and he doesn't know quite what to do, rests his hands on her shoulder blades. "Of course I'd notice, you're my child." She pulls back to look him in the eyes, hands on his shoulders. "I fought to keep you, and I am going to make sure you stay safe. Don't ever doubt that."

He nearly frowns, manages to stop himself, but his mother still catches the expression. "What's wrong?" she asks.

"You and Dad fought for how had to end up dealing with me, not who got to keep me," he eventually says, stilted, though this time not from his lesser grasp of Japanese than his mother.

She blinks at him. "Why in the world would you think that?"

He shifts on his feet, growing more unsure by the minute. He decides to just quote what he remembers, "The two of you used to say things like, 'I have to focus on my career, he's your son, you take care of him'."

Horror grows in her eyes. "You heard that?"

He nods, stiff. He wasn't imagining it then.

She shakes her head, more to herself than him, it seems. Her hands drag down his shoulders, across his breastbone for a moment before they drop completely. Her eyes dart away, down, encompassing her thought. "We were both angry and upset," she says, and then seems to come back to herself, looks back at him. "I said that to him because I didn't want to him to think that having you meant I would give everything else up. I worked very hard to build myself a life in America, and I love you so much, but I didn't want to have give it up in order to keep that unless I had to."

Bennett blinks, thinking she was going to say that she would only take him if she could have both, but evidently her career doesn't mean more than he does, which is a shock.

His mother pushes his bangs back behind his ear. "I leave you behind to take care of my work because I know I can trust you."

Bennett doesn't quite know what to say to that. "You never come to any of my events," he says, not sure why it comes out.

She frowns. "I didn't think you wanted me there. I thought I would throw you off, that you would be embarrassed. You never invited me."

Bennett blinks. He thought she stopped going to things because she didn't need to play the part the way she had when he was a child, but evidently they both haven't communicated quite clearly. "You never seemed interested, or you were busy."

His mother grimaces, she drops her hand from where it'd been lingering behind his ear. "I'm not good at being a mother, Yuuto. I never wanted to be one. I didn't choose to have you, but now that I do, I wouldn't ever change that, you understand? I'm not the mother who can cheer you at your events and make you lunches; I never will be. I still love you."

Bennett clenches his eyes shut, feels tears welling, and she whispers softly,  _my child_ , before she hugs him again. He can't remember the last time he heard that.

Eventually they pull away, and he wipes at his eyes. "I'm going back to see my friend tomorrow at the hospital, during the day."

She nods. He knows she told him she doesn't question this because of trust in him, not disinterest, but it's a new thing to grasp. "Sleep," she says, "You've had enough for one day."

She's right, and he knows it. He bids her goodnight and climbs the stairs to his room.

* * *

 

Bennett wakes up exactly at a quarter to seven, is ready by seven-thirty so Austin can pick him up to get to visiting hours at eight.

For an anxious minute Bennett thinks maybe Austin won't come, that he wasn't clear enough he meant the exact moment visiting hours start, but then Austin's rolling up into his driveway, and Bennett feels relief. He never had to say it, never had to call. Austin knew, just like he hoped.

He lopes out to Austin's SUV, hauls himself up into the passenger seat, familiar enough to start fiddling with the radio dial to settle his nerves.

Austin lays a hand over Bennett's, stops his fidgeting. Bennett freezes, looks up into Austin's serious eyes. "Everything will be okay."

"Tell me that again when we get there," Bennett quips back, annoyed, before he winces. He doesn't want to take his nerves out on Austin.

Austin just snorts. He seems to know Bennett well enough to tell that he gets angry when he's upset about other things and pushed to face them, is used to it by now, easy enough at having it directed at him. "Can you settle long enough for me to drive?"

Bennett scowls at him, shakes Austin's hand off. Austin just shakes his head, smiling, and changes gears to reverse out.

* * *

 

They make it to the hospital before everyone but Maurice, who was probably there overnight. His eyes look sleep heavy, and he looks relieved to see them when they get up to Luc's room.

"Has he woken up yet?" Bennett asks, voice soft as he cross the room to where Maurice is sitting bedside.

Maurice shrugs. "Here and there. He's groggy and can't seem to make sense of much, though. They moved him out of emerg, but we have to keep waking him up as a precaution with the concussion, though."

"So that is what he has, then?" Austin asks, and Bennett turns to face him, sees the grimace on his face. Austin isn't the closest to Luc, not by far, is the newest of all of them, but this is hardly nothing to him. Sometimes Bennett struggles to remember that.

Maurice nods, looking washed out. "Hard to tell how bad it is at this stage. He should be discharged soon, but we'll still need to keep ice on his head regularly and make sure he gets woken up every four hours or so when he's sleeping to check clarity. He's not supposed to be in too much light or do things like watch TV or read, which he won't be happy about, but he's also advised not to difficult math, which means he'll get excused from algebra for a while, which he should like."

Bennett rolls his eyes. "We'll know he's at least good enough to go home when he processes that and shows how thrilled he is." He glances over at Luc, look at the grimace on his face, the paleness of his skin, how there's a shaved spot on his head so they could get a look at what's now a nasty bruise blooming over the skin.

"That we will," Maurice says, and then rubs a hand over his face. "Are you two the only ones coming?"

Bennett shakes his head. "Shouldn't be. Do you mind if I step out for a moment to call everyone and make sure?"

Maurice flaps a hand at him. "Go ahead. Neither he or I are going anywhere," he says, nodding at Luc.

Bennett slips just into the hallway, and Austin follows him out. Bennett blinks at him over his shoulder, and Austin just shrugs.

Bennett decides to just let that go, doesn't want to dwell, moves through the hospital until he finds a quiet spot by a window that permits cellphone usage.

He sits down, and Austin sits directly next to him, nudged right up against his side. Bennett looks at him, bemused, but Austin just shrugs, the motion easy to feel where they're pressed together.

Bennett can tell he's trying to offer Bennett support while playing the role as though he's the one who needs it. Bennett's grateful, but he won't say so. He doesn't think he needs to, besides.

He calls Jasmine first, and she answers on the first ring, voice quick. "We're on our way, my parents are driving, meet you there."

Bennett should have expected that much from her. "We're already here," he says, and then fires off the room number. She makes an affirmative noise and he doesn't even bother with a goodbye before hanging up and starting to dial Bridget, going down through a mental list.

They all agree to come. Cooper still doesn't pick up.

Bennett breathes out harshly, pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Fuck."

"It's all catching up to you now?" Austin asks, placing a broad palm on Bennett's back, available to him by the way Bennett's leaning forward in his seat, hunched over his knees.

"I can't get Cooper to answer the phone," Bennett hisses, shaking his head, and then drops his hand from his face, turns to Austin. "The others are coming. I think there's a limit to how many people in the room at a time, so we'll rotate."

Austin frowns, but he doesn't argue. "Okay."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Austin says, and then sighs when Bennett's skeptical look doesn't fade. "You just don't seem to be reacting that much. You sure you're not shutting it down?"

"I deal with things by handling as many things about it as I can," Bennett says, pocketing his phone and standing up. "I can't make Luc better, but I can do what Maurice asks me, I can get the others here." He looks back at Austin, still sitting. "You can understand that, right?"

Austin nods, levers himself to his feet as well. "I can. It sounds just like you, actually."

Bennett punches him in the arm.

* * *

 

Jasmine shows up first, bursts her way into Luc's room, but in an almost, quiet, respectful way, if that's possible.

Luc's starting to wake up, looking groggy. Jasmine goes straight to him, ignoring Bennett and Austin. Bennett's not offended, he figured as much after they'd spoken on the phone.

"How's the head, Princess?" she asks him, standing right over and blocking out the filtered light Luc's squinting his eyes at.

"Awful," he croaks out, and Austin grimaces at the rough sound of his voice.

"You took a nasty spill," Bennett says, focuses on keeping his voice soft.

Luc jumps, turns to look at Bennett and Austin sitting on the side of the room, blinks in surprise.

"Your Dad went out to get coffee from downstairs," Austin says.

Luc blinks. "Okay. Are you all here?"

"Not yet, the other's are on their way," Jasmine says, making Luc turn his head again, and he looks a little disorientated.

Bennett lets Jasmine talk to him for a while, chattering to him while Luc mostly responds in mono-syllables.

Bridget comes in maybe twenty minutes later, eyes starting to get watery as soon as she comes in.

"He's just fine, Bree," Jasmine tells her, reeling her in with an arm around her shoulder, leaving it there as comfort while they both share space on Luc's bed.

"I know," Bridget hiccups, "but I was so worried."

Luc reaches out, squeezes her hand, and Bridget wraps her fingers around his back. "I'm sorry, I should hardly be the one the needs to be taken care of right now."

Luc manages a wane smile. "It's okay. Makes me a feel bit less like the fragile waif in the hospital bed."

Rene shows up next, breezes in and lays a kiss on Luc's cheek. "I have a UN meeting today and will need to leave soon, but I made sure to come see you before that."

Luc smiles up at her. "Merci."

Alison and Peter come in at the same time, and when the rest of them blink in surprise, Alison shrugs. "Came into the parking lot the same time."

Peter's carrying a bouquet of flowers, looks awkward of them, divulges himself of them as soon as he can by leaving them on Luc's bedside table. "I brought you flowers," he says, voice stilted.

Luc laughs. "Thanks."

Bennett looks around the room, is grateful they're all looking out for Luc, but is suddenly murderously angry at Cooper for not being here, though if he's rejecting contact from them, there's no way he can know what state Luc's in right now.

"I'll be right back," Bennett mutters, standing up, and garners curious looks as he leaves the room, heads back to the space permitting cell phone use he'd found earlier.

"You okay?" Austin's voice comes from behind him, and Bennett turns with a frown already on his face to see everyone that had come to see Luc.

Alison shrugs in response to his unasked question. "Luc told us to check up on you, said he wasn't going anywhere. Rene stayed with him."

Bennett breathes out harshly, tries Cooper on his phone one more time before sticking his hand out towards Austin, palm out. "Give me your phone."

Austin blinks at him in confusion, but fishes his phone out of his pocket anyways, making Bennett's chest fizz to know he listened despite not knowing why. He pushes it down, now isn't the time.

"Because Cooper's more likely to pick up from you phone. He knows I'll meddle," Bennett explains, and Austin goes with it, unlocks his phone and lays in Bennett's palm.

Bennett scrolls through his contacts, gets to Cooper, hits dial. It goes for three rings, in which Bennett is starting to think Cooper won't pick up for anyone, before he answers with, "I really don't want to talk about Luc, Austin," sounding tired.

"This is Bennett," he barks, and before Cooper can hang up, "Luc's in the hospital."

Cooper's breath stalls for a moment. "What?"

"He fell off the footbridge, has a concussion," Bennett replies brisk.

Cooper's silent for a tense moment. "I don't have to go see him. We're not friendly right now, I don't want to see him." Cooper's voice is strained, angry, combative.

"You better get down here if you want to stay friends with him," Bennett replies, voice chilling, "because if you're not coming now, that says pretty clearly that you're not willing to get over whatever if between you two, and that in lieu of forgiveness you're cutting your friendship off."

Cooper's voice is choked down the line, after a hesitant breath. "I'm coming." He sounds unsure of whether he really wants to, but seems to know that saying no is then killing off something he's not ready to see an end to.

Bennett hangs up the phone, looks up to meet the eyes of all his friends. He almost startles; he'd forgotten they were there.

Austin smiles, all of sudden. "I forgot how rabid you get when you're mad," he says, and Bennett resists the urge to fling his phone at him, settles for shoving it into his chest with a huff.

* * *

 

Cooper shows up a little while later. Bennett spots him from across the lobby as he enters, Bennett and Jasmine stopping to get hot chocolate so they don't all overwhelm Luc. Cooper looks nervous, shaky, but he's here. And that counts for a lot, Bennett thinks.

Cooper goes up, and shortly after, the rest of the group files down, clusters around them.

"I thought we should give them some alone time to work things out," Austin tells him in response to the question in his eyes, lays an arm across his shoulders. When the rest of the group is distracted, a bit rowdy now that they're in a space permitting more noise, Austin ducks to lay a kiss on Bennett's cheek.

Bennett only blinks, reaches up to brush his fingers across where Austin had kissed. He glances at Austin's face, but Austin's already watching the others with amusement.

Bennett wonders what he's gotten himself into, if he's implied to Austin something more than he meant to. The weight of Austin's arm across his shoulders suddenly feels heavy, rather than comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always happy to talk over at my tumblr, starburst-sunbeam!


	27. Chapter 27

Bennett would prefer to be staying close to town in order to be around Luc, but he doesn't get much of a choice in it. He's made various commitments to multiple clubs, one of which is mathletes with Jasmine, of which they have to leave to compete in Regionals.

It wouldn't bother him, generally. Around this time of year, missing class for competitions is routine to him, and Jasmine is far from the worst company. But he feels highstrung in a way he rarely is, generally feels his blood pulse and his mind working at its height under pressure, lives for the rush of it. Now he can feel himself buckling under it, scared in a way he's never been before, not that he won't succeed, which he's feared before, but that he's piled too much on himself and won't be able to handle all of it.

It's a sobering thought.

Jasmine's parents and Bennett's mom accept their friendship, even if they don't exactly support it. Bennett doesn't really want to push that, nor does he want to spend an extended amount of time in an enclosed space with a Chinese family blaming half of his blood for every war between their two countries (which Bennett is not even going to touch, he's only physically been to Japan once and can't read the language worth shit), so he asks his Mom if she has time to drive him. She pulls up her calender on her phone, shrugs, says, "I have a corporate lunch but I can push it back." Bennett tries to argue, but she refuses, just says, "I'm the boss, they can listen to me," which is so much of his mom it almost makes Bennett fond instead of frustrated. Almost.

They set out, sunglasses perched on his mom's nose, looking like the million dollar trophy wife, even though it was more of the reverse for his parents, while they were together. (He remembers his dad saying once, idly, that negotiations tended to go better when they were dealing with a white, unaccented man. Bennett hadn't really understood what that meant until later.)

"Who was the hurt friend?" his mom asks, once they're on the highway. It's not an achingly long drive, but long enough.

"Luc," Bennett answers. "The blond one, Canadian, French."

His mom waves a hand. "I know who he is." Bennett has no idea if she's telling the truth or not. "How is he?"

Bennett shrugs, pulls at a thread on his jeans. "Took a pretty nasty fall, minor concussion and some scrapes."

His mother frowns, and at first Bennett thinks she maybe doesn't know what 'concussion' means. "He is okay now?"

"Yeah, he's got his dad to take care of him."

"And you."

Bennett looks up at her, but she's focused on the road. "And me," he agrees.

* * *

 

They talk a little more over the rest of the trip. They're nearly there when his mom asks, "And dating? Are there any girls you like?"

"Uh," Bennett says. He can lie smooth as anything to teachers and peers. He's never managed it well with his mother.

She raises her eyebrows, glances at him sidelong. "Should I be worried you're about to elope away from me?"

Bennett can feel his face flush red. "No!"

She shakes her head. "If you say so."

There's no possible way he could tell her the truth.

* * *

 

Jasmine waves when she sees him, and Bennett's mother pecks him on the cheek, perfunctory, goes to find a place to seat. Despite being short even in three inch heels, people part for her like the red sea, her stride determined. Bennett's kind of glad it won't be tested whether or not she would just push through people and step with her heels onto the top of their feet, because he wouldn't put it passed her to do it.

"Hey," he says to Jasmine, who comes to stand next to him, wraps an arm around his shoulders.

"The whole world is ours to conquer, Ben-Ben," she whispers.

"We're looking at a wall, Jasmine."

"Well, we're not allowed in the room where we compete yet, are we?"

Bennett rolls his eyes. "You know there are more people in mathletes than you and I, right?"

Jasmine shrugs. "Sure, but we're the main players."

Bennett shakes his head, fond.

"Hey, did I see your mom come in?" Jasmine asks, eyes shining with curiosity.

"Yes," Bennett says, and doesn't say anything else, going to find their coordinator, leaving Jasmine sputtering behind him.

* * *

 

They go through two rounds, win both in the round robin tournament, before they break for lunch. Jasmine and Bennett eat alone together in the huge break room, all the teams congregating.

She eats her lunch slowly, splitting the bean curd from it. "So, what do you think our chances are?"

Bennett shrugs. "Pretty reasonable, I'd say."

She smiles shallowly, just a quirk at her lips, almost unamused. "And what do you think they'd be if Austin was here? Better because he's smarter, or worse because he likes to fuck with you?"

Bennett frowns, slowly puts his chopsticks down as he looks at her.

She shrugs. "He does."

"He used to," Bennett says, "he's better."

"Better doesn't mean good, Ben." She stabs a piece a chicken. "You two yo-yo all the time. You'll look happy, peaceful, and then bam, suddenly you're highly tense and he's pulling you aside to ask if you two can talk."

Bennett frowns speculatively down at the table, unsure how to take that. He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. "If I tell you something, will you promise not to spread it around?"

Jasmine bristles. "What kind of friend do you think I am? Of course I wouldn't --"

"I'm serious," Bennett says. "Not anyone in the group either, not Luc, not Bridget, no one."

"Not Austin?" Jasmine says, caustic.

Bennett doesn't reply, lets the silence hang.

Jasmine sighs, shakes her head. "Okay. Not a word."

Bennett taps the tabletop with his fingernail, tries to think of how to word this. "Austin and I kind of have a thing?" he tries, and Jasmine's eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, so he elaborates, "like a Rene and Giles, Bridget and Alison kind of thing."

Jasmine's eyes go wide. "You mean those were lover's spats?"

Bennett scowls fiercely. "I wouldn't call it that."

"Oh my god," says Jasmine faintly.

Bennett pushes his fingers back through his hair, exhales out a harsh breath. "I'm," his voice breaks. "We're not together, not dating," the words taste strange in his mouth, "or anything like that, but there's... We're something." He shrugs.

Jasmine raises an eyebrow. "Not gonna lie, you were the last person I expceted to go for a no-strings kind of relationship."

Bennett makes a frustrated noise. "That's because it literally started because we were fucking fighting and he kissed me because he thought I would freak out on him, and at the time that was funny to him."

Jasmine frowns. "I... Yeah, it's concerning that the scenario there is completely plausible."

"It just kind of... escalated. Neither of us willing to give up, wanting to see the other break. We kind of came to respect and then like each other."

Jasmine stares at him with calculating eyes. "And you keep getting closer now." It's not a question.

Bennett rubs the back of his neck, uncomfortable and off balance. "Even if I hated him at the beginning, it's not nearly so clear now." He squeezes his eyes shut, drops his voice, not wanting to hear the words himself, a little, "I can't date a boy, I can't." He opens his eyes, sees Jasmine looking speculative, the way she does when she's trying to tackle a problem, obviously looking at how to help him instead of judging him for what he's done to himself. He feels immediate relief.

"Breaking it off and finding a nice Japanese-Canadian girl isn't an option at this point, is it?"

Bennett shrugs. "Probably not."

She sighs. "I thought so."

* * *

 

They haven't got time to hash the whole thing out in the lunch break alone, and they've got to back to compete.

Bennett's good, Jasmine's better, but they turn out not to be the best. The team they face, the round that determines who makes it to the finals, is just a bit quicker, a bit crisper. They get beat out.

"You can and have done better," his mother says, and normally Bennett feels upset, but he knows now it's her strange form of encouragement. She's not saying he did horribly, but that having won before and knowing he can win again means he just has to work to earn it, that is loss is just a string in things leading to successes.

Jasmine claps him on the back when it's over, waiting for their parents to come over. "Hey," she says, voice lowered, "no matter how it might feel sometimes, you're not in this alone, okay?"

He manages a smile at her, pats her hip gratefully.

* * *

 

His mom suddenly scrunches up her nose in the middle of their drive home, and Bennett stops midsentence in surprise.

"What?" he asks.

"You're not dating that Chinese girl, are you?" she gripes, as though it's just occured to her, and Bennett barely manages not to laugh himself sick, she's so far off base.

"No, Mom," he says, which seems to placate her.

* * *

 

Jasmine shows up at his house the next day, shoulders her way in passed him through the doorway.

"Come on in," he deadpans, but she ignores him. 

Jasmine passes through the kitchen, throws a winning smile at his mom and says, "Hello, Mrs. Cole," as she breezes by.

Bennett's mom gives her a suspicious look. "It's Ms. Fujioka; I dropped my husband's name."

Jasmine's face washes white, and Bennett snorts, ushers her towards the den where he keeps the piano and away from where she'd been heading straight for the stairs, presumably for his bedroom. He doesn't want to encourage his mother's assumption of an involvement between him and Jasmine.

"So, to what do I owe this visit?" he says to her, watching her drop onto the couch, reclining onto it.

She cocks an eyebrow at him. "You're allowed to sit."

He shrugs. "I want to know what this is about." He's pretty sure he already knows.

She throws him a judgemental look. "Ben, you're like three steps away from the hanky panky with Austin."

Bennett can feel himself flush red, shushes her and comes to sit closer.

"We could have done this in your room, you know, it would have been a more private conversation," she snipers.

"Jasmine," he says, "My mom thinks I want to date you."

Jasmine blinks at him. "Okay, nevermind. I concede the point to you."

Bennett rolls his eyes. "Anyway, yes, I make bad decisions, I'm well aware."

Jasmine heaves a sigh, levers herself up to sit so that Bennett can fit in beside, which he scoots in to do. "No, that's not it. I know how this started, I know why. I just... We worry about you, Ben. You try to help all of us and you'd run yourself ragged doing so, but then when something comes up for you, you don't say a word. You don't want to burden us."

Bennett cuts his eyes to the side. "I'm..." He doesn't know how to word it, it's not that he looks down on them, thinks they're not capable, doesn't want to share anything about himself, it's just... "I feel like I need to prove to myself that I can handle these things on my own, whether I have to or not."

Jasmine pats his knee. "Ben, anyone that has watched you run for student council knows you can handle pretty much anything."

He manages a wane smile back at her for that. "I know, but I feel like if I do let someone else help, I'm conceding something? Saying that I'll know if I could have done it by myself, even if I could have."

Jasmine frowns. "You're not supposed to have to."

He shrugs.

"No, Ben," she whaps him on the shoulder, "Do Generals win wars by themselves? No, they need a fucking army, you stubborn little shit."

He's always done best talking to Jasmine, who doesn't treat him with fragility, doesn't make him want to shrink away the way he does when he gets treated like fine china. "I've never asked if I could date boys, but I know I can't. I should just drop this whole thing where it is."

"But you haven't," she argues, "so there must be a reason for that, whether you're willing to admit it to yourself or not. I don't like it because I think he'll hurt you, and while I consider Austin a friend, if it comes down to it I'd chose you." She says it so bluntly, it warms Bennett's chest. "But there's a reason you're still around, why it lasted passed one kiss of him trying to wind you up. You're still in this because there's something keeping you there. That's not something to go by lightly, and if Austin himself isn't your objection, than I'll respect your feelings on that."

Bennett thinks of Austin, brushing warm up close to him when he'd seen his father, frozen in the face of it, a quiet but steady reassurance. He's more than Bennett first knew him to be.

"He means something to me," he admits for the first time out loud. "I just have to figure out if he means more to me than everything I stand to face."

Bennett thinks of his mother, the way her accent wraps around his name and rounds it out to sound different from the way everyone else holds the words in their mouth, and blinks quickly to tide back the burning in his eyes.

Jasmine puts a hand on top of his own, bracing and reassuring. "You've got time, Ben. And you've got a lot of people willing to help you figure it out."

"Yeah," Bennett says. "But Austin thinks my mom's already a neglectful witch, and I'm pretty sure my mom would lose her head if she knew I was interested in another boy. I don't get a compromise here, and the two most important people are the two I can't talk to."

Jasmine grimaces in sympathy, doesn't say anything, just squeezes his hand. It does more to settle him than anything she could have said aloud.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School picture day is a nightmare, and Bennett has no lost love for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Edit because I accidentally wrote Luc as being at school when he wasn't supposed to be, whoops.

School picture day is a nightmare, and Bennett has no lost love for it.

Luc's still recovering, nearly out, but probably won't have to do any heavy mathematics when he gets back, and is allowed to wear sunglasses to dim the light. He's not here for school picture day, but the rest of them are, dressed in their best. (Luc's cleared for electronics now, and he had texted Bennett a string of " _hahahahahaha_ " and nothing else when Bennett had complained. Bennett's just saving his own laughter for when Luc, history buff he is, has to spend extra time to catch up on Math.)

Bennett's mom made him wear a bowtie. He's not amused. At least the other boys get to wear regular ties.

Austin... looks good. Which isn't something Bennett likes admitting to himself.

"Nice tie, Ben," Austin says when he sees him, grinning, leaning back against Bennett's locker. He looks like something from a men's magazine for formal wear. Bennett doesn't trust himself to reply with something fittingly caustic, so he just throws Austin the bird instead. Austin throws his head back laughing, revealing the long line of his throat, the skin tanned.

Bennett shoves at Austin, throws him off balance so he can get to his locker.

"Pretty outside, ugly inside," Austin says, grinning bright. Bennett can feel his heart jump for a second at the implication that Austin thinks he looks good, but he pushes it down, throws Austin an exaggerated scowl.

Jasmine flips her hair. "I'm still the hottest one here."

"Objection," Alison says, threading one of her arms with Bridget's.

"Overturned, you're biased," Jasmine waves them off.

Bennett rolls his eyes.

Jasmine sees his attention on her and winks at him. "I like the tie."

Bennett flicks her, and Jasmine elbows him back, laughing.

"They're calling by grade and surname, right?" Cooper asks, borrowing a makeup mirror from Bridget to try to fix his hair. Peter's snickering behind him.

"Oui," Jasmine says, only grinning wider when Cooper glares at her.

"Five minutes," Bennett warns, wanting them to know that if they want to get into something, it'll probably make them late for class.

Jasmine salutes him sarcastically. "Thank you, Timekeeper."

Bennett smiles at her, fake. "Tick tock. You have a week to live."

Jasmine snorts at him. "Dork."

Bennett shrugs a shoulder. He can see Jasmine eyeing Austin speculatively over his shoulder, expression shrewd. It's the first time she's seen him since Bennett's admission of the nature of their relationship, and she's too much of a scientist, too much into the nature of observation, not to be re-evaluating him now.

Bennett nudges her none too subtly in the shoulder, jolting her, and she turns to him with eyes narrowed. Bennett stares her down, not willing to concede. Jasmine likes to take control, is a fierce and loyal person, but sometimes Bennett has to remind her that she's creating battles where he doesn't want any, placing herself on his side in a war she's perceived inside of her own mind. She doesn't like to listen to anyone but herself, but Bennett will make her if he has to.

Jasmine finally huffs in defeat after a minutes long staredown, turning and heading off to class without a word. When Bennett turns, Austin catches his eye, communicating a quizzical look. "What was that about?"

Bennett shrugs casually. "I have no idea," he feigns ignorance, and Austin just looks confused, not suspicious.

Bennett knows he's a good liar. He usually thinks its a skill, a boon, but sometimes chills creep up his spine, and he wonders if he could speak only lies and no one would notice.

* * *

 

Bennett gets called for his picture just after lunch, when he's in Physics with Austin, in the first group of juniors to go since he has a last name beginning with C. Idly, he sometimes wonders if his mother wanted to have his name hyphenated, or perhaps have him take hers, if having his father's name tacked on after the one that's just his own puts a sour taste in his mouth. He doesn't know. He won't ask. He doesn't ask his parents anything about their divorce, and they don't offer.

His picture is quick, he throws up the smile he has practised and drilled into his muscle memory. It's second nature by now, the one he's used even when he's achingly mad, feels the weight of disappointment and defeat, when his father looks him in the eyes and gives him a name he's never chosen or approved of. It nearly looks natural, a real emotion or expression, so often has he had use of it.

They're quick with him, having to do little adjusting of his pose and expression, send him off with a wave. He lopes off gratefully.

Bennett nearly shrieks when he's suddenly grabbed around the waist, a hand clamping around his mouth, pulling him into a quieter, side hallway, where you're less likely to get noticed. He's gone tense, mind whirring, but then he hears a familiar low chuckle. He elbows Austin in the ribs.

Austin chokes, letting him loose. "Jesus Christ," he gasps.

Bennett turns to face him, eyebrow cocked, unamused. "Very funny."

"I thought so until you _elbowed me in the lung_."

Bennett rolls his eyes. "You're being over dramatic."

"I am suffocating," Austin says, wilting against the lockers, the back of his hand pressed to his forehead like a swooning damsel.

"Oh no," Bennett deadpans. "What will we do. Oh well, I guess he's passed saving."

Austin laughs, looking like he's doing it despite himself, caught by surprise. "I can feel the tender emotion."

Bennett can feel his lips twitch, offers Austin a hand up. He accepts.

Austin's dusting himself off, when Bennett scrunches his brows together, thinking. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

Austin shrugs. "I should. I'm not."

Bennett snorts despite himself.

"I wanted to catch you for just a moment," Austin says.

Bennett can feel his face contort in confusion. "Why? We see each other all the time."

Austin shrugs, but Bennett can tell he's feigning the feeling of nonchalance rather than giving it off genuinely. "I can't want to see you?"

Bennett tilts his head, suspicion creeping in now.

Austin snorts. "Okay, fuck, I used to be way better at lying to you. I'd actually hoped to time it so I could kind of fuck with the way you looked before your photo, but I timed it wrong."

Bennett, then, is struck with an idea. He tries his best attempt at a coy smile, winds one arms around Austin's shoulders, the other resting at the knot of his tie, in the hollow of his throat. "That didn't quite work out. But you know what you did manage to catch me in order to time perfectly."

Austin looks a little shell-shocked, staring at Bennett's face, arms lying still by his sides like he's forgotten he can physically react. "What?"

Bennett leans in, puts his mouth by Austin's ear to whisper, "Messing up _your_ photo."

And then he swiftly pulls off Austin's tie, since he'd been picking at and loosening the knot as they talked briefly.

Bennett backs up, laughing, and Austin splutters, diving after him as Bennett dances out of the way. "The mastermind is outplayed," Bennett says, grinning without being able to help it.

Austin's eyes narrow, and then he lunges and grabs Bennett by the legs, hoisting him over his shoulders. Bennett, he is ashamed to admit, squeaks in alarm.

"You're a little shit," Austin grouses, though he doesn't seem to put off. Even without being able to see his expression Bennett knows he's unwillingly impressed.

"I'm sorry, what was that? 'Wow Bennett, you're amazing, I concede that you are the ultimate victor and humbly beg for my formal garment back," Bennett jokes, getting a kick out of this.

"Who the fuck talks like that?" Austin says, but his back is shaking with laughter, Bennett moving along with the motion of it.

Bennett reaches back and dangles the tie in front of Austin's face, and Austin snatches it back. For a brief moment and he has to let go of one of Bennett's legs to do it, and his other hand holds him strong, grip firm, pressing warm and secure into the give of Bennett's thigh.

"Boys?" A dry voice calls behind them, obviously adult and female, and both Bennett and Austin freeze. Bennett prays fervently that it's one of the more relaxed teachers, the dry tone more amused than disapproving, but he doubts that's the case considering Austin's frozen too, and he's the one that can see the woman's face.

Austin nudges Bennett up with his shoulders, loosening the grip on his legs enough that Bennett's lobbed back over his shoulder and slips, descent controlled by Austin's hands, back onto the ground.

He turns, and faces a woman in a crisp blouse and ironed pencil skirt.

"Principal Highbell," he chokes out.

The Principal's eyes move to him, unamused. "Hello, Mr. Cole."

He swallows.

Her gaze moves back and forth over Austin and Bennett a couple of times, gauging them, and Bennett feels stuck in place, wonders if his shoes could nail to the floor and he'd even notice.

"I expect better behaviour from my students," she says. "Especially two as exemplary as you. With your records as they are, I'm not going to do anything, but don't let me catch you two at this sort of thing again."

"Not even if there's a fire and I have to carry Bennett out?" Austin says, mock serious.

Bennett steps on his foot.

Principal Highbell raises her eyebrows slightly, staring at Austin. "Obviously I'm not referring to such circumstances, Mr. Haroldes."

"Just clarifying," Austin replies with a beatific smile. Bennett grinds his foot in harder.

"As long as that's cleared up then, I'll be on my way. Behave yourselves, gentlemen."

She sweeps off down the hallway, and Bennett lets out a sigh of relief. Immediately after, Austin turns his face into Bennett's shoulder, muffling his laughter.

"Are you insane?" Bennett hisses. "Were you _trying_ to make it worse?"

"Not really," Austin replies, speaking into Bennett more than towards him. He lifts his head then, eyes practically sparking with laughter. "That was hilarious."

"What part of that was hilarious to you?" Bennett says, voice higher with incredulity. He's starting to wonder if Austin has a brain for everything academic because he traded it out for a survival instinct.

"She looked at us, saw you, her top student, and then immediately zeroed in on me as the corruption of her wonder child. She wanted so badly to give me a detention but couldn't without giving you one too. It was glorious."

Bennett frowns up at him. "You've got to have nearly the same grades I do."

"Sure," Austin says, "but I wasn't born the poster child of model student."

Bennett pinches the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. "You're going to get yourself into so much trouble one of these days."

"Maybe," Austin says, and then slings an arm around Bennett's shoulders, "but I'm taking you down with me."

Bennett snorts, and Austin seems unsatisfied with that, so he grabs the bottom of Bennett's oxford in one hand while the arm across his shoulders pulls back to get a grip on Bennett's shoulder. Turning them, he backs Bennett up against the locker bank.

"Trust me," he says, voice lower and face moving closer. "You're not going to be able to get out of it."

And then they're kissing, and Bennett thinks he should push Austin away, but he only tilts his face up so that the two of them fit together more easily.

His hands go up automatically, pressing to the warm skin of Austin's chest, but after a few brief presses the weight of their surroundings makes his anxiety and paranoia too great to ignore. With his hands where they are, he gently pushes Austin away.

"Go clean yourself up," he says, taking the hand Austin has that's loosely gripping his tie and closing his fist more securely around it. Austin, whose eyes had glazed over slightly, looking confused at Bennett pulling away, sharpens. He steps away and heads towards the men's room.

Bennett debates telling him about how the state of his hair probably isn't salvageable, now that it resembles a bird's nest, but figures it's only fair to let Austin discover that all on his own.

* * *

 

Bennett isn't really concerned as he comes up to school, mind already working ahead to his first class, so he's caught by surprise when Peter suddenly accosts him at the front of the school.

"Ben! My friend, my buddy. Hello," he says, coming and walking uncomfortably close to Bennett.

"Hi," Bennett replies warily, eyeing Peter. He slides through the front door, Peter close at his heels.

"What a great morning it is, what a beautiful day. Come, walk with me," he says, and he puts an arm around Bennett's shoulders, steering him the long way towards their lockers.

"Um, sure?" Bennett says, confused.

Students around them are turning their heads as they pass, a wave of whispers following them. Bennett's suspicion rises rapidly.

"Beautiful day, huh?" Bennett says, turning to Peter and raising a brow.

Peter's practically sweating. He throws a smile Bennett's way, but it's shaky. "Yeah. I mean, sun's out, birds are singing, breeze going by. The world is just such a great, great place."

It's close to the end of January.

"Mhmm," Bennett hums along. Peter seems relieved at Bennett's easy acquiescence, which makes it easy to slip out of his grip. Peter makes a sound of alarm as Bennett ducks away for him, making a grab at him as Bennett starts to weave into the heavier rush of students.

"Ben, that's, you don't want to go that way," Peter stammers, following close behind him, weaving around students behind him. Hearing him speak, people turn to look. Their eyes catch on Bennett, and they part from him, staring, mouths behind their hands as they whisper.

"Why not?" Bennett challenges, striding without pause. The further he moves, the more nervous Peter seems to get.

"Uhm, that's..." Peter starts, but his voice trails off as Bennett comes up to the bulletin board, the newest issue of the school paper proudly displayed.

There, right on the front page, is Bennett. Bennett on school picture day. Bennett in a quiet hallway, ushered up against the locker bank.

Bennett kissing Austin.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bennett steps closer to Emery then, lowers his voice so only they can hear. "You're going to publish a public apology, both to Austin and I."
> 
> "You can't have me do that," Emery says, copying his tone.

"Ben," Peter says hesitantly behind him.

Bennett ignores him, tunes out the chaos of everyone around him, focuses in on the name in short, clipped text below the photograph of him. _Emery Alfonso_.

He's a sore loser, a dirty player, and Bennett is determined to give him hell tenfold for what Emery's done for him today.

"Excuse me," Bennett says, and he's keeping control of his voice, but perhaps too tightly, considering it sounds chilled like ice, smooth as steel in a frightening way. Everyone around him backs up quickly, including Peter, who follows close on his heels as he stalks away, strides determined and concise, looking nearly clipped with the way he's wound tight with tension.

"Ben, it's going to be okay -" Peter starts.

"I'm going to deal with this," Bennett interrupts. He knows where Emery's locker is, but he has to pass their own first to get there. The entire group turns wide eyes on him when he approaches.

"Ben," Austin says, stepping towards him. He lays a hand on Bennett's arm, but Bennett slips out of his grip.

"Not now," Bennett says, and continues passed Austin without giving enough pause for Austin to reach for him again. He can feel Austin turn after him as he walks away, a little lost and confused. Bennett refuses to feel guilt. He'll show Austin why he's brushing him off.

"Emery!" he calls, and for the first time, Bennett hears the entire hallway go silent.

Emery, halfway down the hall, closes his locker, turning to Bennett with a shark toothed smile. "Bennett. Hello, how has your morning been?"

"You are going to rescind your article," Bennett hisses, crowding up close to Emery. For just a moment, uncertainty flashes in Emery's eyes, before he straightens his posture, that façade of untouchable confidence in place. He can pretend all he wants, but he's shown Bennett a crack, and he'll push on it until it breaks if he has to.

"Why would I do that?" Emery asks, feigning a regal air.

"Because I know you can't have printed that with permission," Bennett says, voice low and dangerous. There is ice in his veins, and he'll freeze everything around him if he has to. "I didn't read the article, but I didn't have to, did I? You called me gay, a liar, a coward, someone hiding themselves from the school who doesn't deserve their vote."

Emery's lips tighten, and Bennett knows he's right.

"If that's what I am, then what are you?" Bennett continues. "Someone who prints slander, who has to tear other people down in order to get a little bit of power? Someone who knows that he'll get more attention for his article by printing something that would never be approved? A coward, hiding behind ink and paper? A homophobe, someone intolerant and discriminatory to their fellow students?"

Emery's eyes flash. "You have no room to talk down to me."

Bennett raises an eyebrow. "I don't? You outed someone against their will. What did I do? Kiss someone? Since when is that a crime?"

Emery's eyes are sparking, anger evident in his expression, but he keeps silent.

Bennett steps closer to Emery then, lowers his voice so only they can hear. "You're going to publish a public apology, both to Austin and I."

"You can't have me do that," Emery says, copying his tone.

"No," Bennett admits. "But I can influence how this whole thing is going to go over with your faculty advisor when he finds out. Does you want this just to come across as a joke that got out of hand? Do you want this to come across as a blatant, homophobic attack on another student, and possibly get your writing position taken away permanently? That's your choice."

Bennett turns away before Emery can respond, leaves him with that. He walks back over to his friends, all eyes on him as he approaches Austin again, including that of their friends.

Bennett stops, facing Austin, paying no heed to everyone staring. "Walk me to class?"

Austin's lips twitch. "Does that count if it's my class too?"

Bennett shrugs, takes Austin's hand and threads their fingers together. "I don't see why not."

Austin just shakes his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips, but he starts to follow Bennett when he tugs. They match pace, Austin leaning down to his height to whisper in his ear, "You're a force of nature, did you know that?"

Bennett doesn't even blink. "Then people better learn to get the hell out of my way."

Austin doesn't say anything, but when Bennett glances at him, Austin's eyes are on him, a fond smile on his face. Bennett doesn't address it.

* * *

Bennett goes to visit Luc after school.

Luc's at home now, though he and his dad have been given strict instructions for a road to good healing, too much surfacing information on horrible later effects of concussions for them to go soft on him, even if it was relatively minor like Luc's.

Bennett's glad for it, in a contrite way. Hospitals always make him vaguely uncomfortable, he knows they're good, that they help people, but the smell always stings in his nose, and he feels like he's surrounded by people fighting to be healthier because fortune turned on them. It's not as clinical as he'd been led to belief, most rooms furnished and full of colour, but he still kind of shies away when he sees little girls bald from chemo and men in wheelchairs with legs shrivelled up to near nothing, and then feels guilty for looking at them and wanting to avoid dealing with it, wanting to ignore what is an unavoidable reality of their life. Bennett's Japanese family friends always tell him he should be a doctor, that he has the intelligence for it, that it's a good and worthy profession, but he doesn't think he has the courage for it.

Luc's looking better than when Bennett last saw him, the lights in the room brighter than they had been, more colour in Luc's cheeks. He's reading a comic book, and Bennett knows he's been cleared for some amount of reading, but judging by the way Luc's squinting Bennett thinks he may be overpassing his allotted time.

Bennett snatches the comic out of Luc's hands, causing the boy to look up and scowl at him.

"Nope," Bennett says, placing it out of reach. Luc scowls.

"I know," he concedes. "But I'm bored out of my mind. There is literally nothing to do that doesn't involve reading or electronic screens, did you know that?"

"Radio," Bennett replies dryly, sitting at the foot of Luc's bed.

Luc looks ruffled at that. "It's just songs and news and sports, Ben. _I get twitchy_."

Bennett doesn't want to laugh, but he can feel his lips twitch. "Well, I'm here to entertain you now."

Luc snorts, but he seems to give up on fighting Bennett, sitting up straighter and crossing his legs beneath him. "Tell me of the goings on in the mortal world."

Bennett rolls his eyes, but settles in more comfortably on Luc's bed.

"It's been very exciting," Bennett says mildly, and Luc's expression scrunches. He obviously knows Bennett too well by now not to be able to pick up the note in his voice.

"What happened?" Luc asks, shifting to sit up straighter.

Bennett shrugs. "Something on the school newspaper. I would show you the online version, but it seems someone has overused their allowed reading and electronics amount."

Luc scowls. "You're lucky I don't have anything to throw at you right now."

"That's part of the point."

Luc gestures with his hands. "Sum up."

Bennett purposefully keeps his voice as bland as possible, "Emery decides to publish a picture of Austin and I kissing."

Luc sits forward, shocked. "So now the whole school knows?"

Bennett pauses. "You mean you knew?"

Luc flushes, embarrassed. "There may have been a conversation between Austin and I during the debate trip discussing something of that nature."

Bennett rolls his eyes. He thinks he should be angry, and maybe he would be, but Luc and Austin only care for him, and its a different set of circumstances telling things between two people with no intention of letting it out, and presenting things for anyone to see.

"Do your parents know?" Luc asks, voice dropping.

That's the question Austin hadn't thought to ask, most likely hadn't occurred to him at all. He tells his parents the goings on in his life, even if he doesn't advertise his own thoughts on them. His parents have an unconditional love - Austin could be a felon and they would still love him. Austin can't imagine the way Bennett purposefully omits things he tells to his parents.

"Not yet," Bennett says, soft. He's not trying to keep quiet for the possibility of being overheard, but because speaking the words at normal volume makes them more real, the inevitability of it.

Luc's lips tighten. He, out of all of them, understands Ben's position the best. Ben doesn't know if Luc's spoken to his mother since he came out and his parents got divorced. He doubts it, though he doesn't think either side is eager to initiate contact.

"Are you going to tell them?" Luc asks. It's a legitimate question.

"No."

"Hiding it from them might make them more upset, or even upset at all where they might otherwise not have been."

"I know," Bennett says, steady.

Luc nods. It's completely possible he disagrees, but he understands.

* * *

When Bennett gets home, he doesn't even think to look for his mother, used to her coming home late.

"Didn't school end a while ago?" she says, and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

She raises an eyebrow at him once he's whirled around. Bennett can feel himself pinken in embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't expect you to be home. I was just over at Luc's."

She nods; this is completely reasonable to her. "The Principal called."

Bennett's heart starts jack-rabbiting in his chest, going shaky under his skin, and his throat constricts. The whole school already knows, one of the pieces of him the most private plastered over all the walls, and he didn't like it, but it's completely different than his mother knowing. There's no uncertainty here in how she'll react, and maybe one day Bennett could accept the split, but he's sixteen and so, so far from being ready.

He needs his mom. But he's not getting a choice in this.

He takes a deep breath, feels in curling in his lungs, summoning something prickling behind his eyes. He wishes it wasn't there, if he has to go through this, he at least wants to look strong.

She frowns at him. "She says you were horsing around on school picture day and that it's unlike you. I agreed. Is something we need to talk about? You should know that sort of behaviour is unacceptable."

Bennett lets out a rush of air. He's relieved, he's relieved beyond belief, to the point where the prickling behind his eyes is getting strong out of the pure emotion of it. He tries to push it back, his mother will be far from happy and closer to suspicious if she senses that.

"No, I just got carried away. I've learned my lesson," Bennett replies, voice still a little shaky with the sudden switches in such strong emotion.

Her lips purse. "You've always been so good. I don't want to have to discipline you."

Bennett bows his head. "I understand. It won't happen again."

His mother seems placated, if not exactly convinced. "Good. There's a few hours yet until dinner." It's not a dismissal, not like he used to believe, but he still isn't keen to stick around and have a parent and child kind of conversation right now. He escapes upstairs.

Bennett stops inside his room, closes his door gently and then leans against. He doesn't think he's breathing quite right, the pull of air through his inhale-exhale unsteady.

He can do this. He's done everything so far: competitions, school elections, exams and projects, his friends' relationships. His own... relationship. He can do this. He just can't let himself waver.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emery doesn't like Bennett. But he respects him. Bennett, for himself, is mostly just glad that Emery will be leaving him alone for a long while, if not for the foreseeable future.
> 
> He's won. It's a hollow victory, and he's lost some things he's not sure he would've been willing to concede if it had been by his own decision.

Bennett is exhausted the entire week before Valentine's, terrified of snide comments, or his teachers treating him with bias and his grades plummeting in a way he won't be able to have his mother fight or even understand without having to come out, of the possibility of Austin wanting to do something or give something on Valentine's that Bennett doesn't know how to reciprocate. He's caught in high water, and it's starting to go over his head.

Emery prints a public apology, and Bennett gets called in by the faculty advisor for the school newspaper to have Emery also apologize to him in person, and starts to detail the punishments Emery is going to receive. Bennett, in a sweet voice, one not overdone, tells him that it seems overboard, and that no real harm was done. The advisor lessens the sentence. When they exit his office, Emery heaves a sigh of relief, and turns to Bennett.

"You're a better person than I am," he admits quietly.

Bennett side-eyes him. "I berated you in a public hallway."

Emery's mouth quirks. "Not undeservedly. And you didn't have to do this - you got your printed apology, you could have let him give me my due punishment."

"Resentment only breeds resentment. Not to mention, I keep my promises." He rises his eyebrows at Emery, letting that hang as the mild threat it is. If he were to swear to Emery that he will get something done, even if were to ruin Emery, he would get it done. Emery evidently understands, because he bows his head. Bennett looks at him a little closer, contemplative.

He doesn't hate Emery. He thinks maybe he knows what hatred feels like, that he used to feel it for Austin in some long forgotten memory, that it still burns bitter and black in his heart sometimes, angry at people he loves but feels neglected by, angry at himself.

Emery doesn't like Bennett. But he respects him. Bennett, for himself, is mostly just glad that Emery will be leaving him alone for a long while, if not for the foreseeable future.

He's won. It's a hollow victory, and he's lost some things he's not sure he would've been willing to concede if it had been by his own decision.

* * *

 

"Are you okay?" Jasmine asks him, the two of them hanging out together on a Monday afternoon after school is out, since their Mathletes season is over and they have the time free now. They're leaning against the outside wall of the school waiting for the next bus and sipping on slurpees despite the late winter chill.

Bennett shrugs. With anyone else, he'd throw up a smile, let it blind, convince the other person they'd been mistaken to ever think so, perhaps convince himself a little. With Jasmine, not only would it be harder to convince her, but it's harder to lie to her simply because he doesn't want to. She's the one he reveals the most to about himself.

"Am I technically in the together or single section of people on Valentine's?" he asks her indirectly.

Jasmine snorts. "I can't answer that one for you."

Bennett sighs, drops his head back. "I hate this."

Jasmine side-eyes him. "I know telling your mom isn't an option, but you could talk to Austin a little, you know?"

Bennett turns to face her, baring his teeth meanly. "To what, prove that he thinks my family is all made of assholes who only care about me conditionally? To make him confront my mom and out me to her?"

Jasmine sighs. "I see your point, but you could try to explain to him, ask him not to do what you're saying he only _might_ do, and trust him?"

"I can't count on that," Bennett says, getting up and tossing away his now empty cup.

Jasmine doesn't say anything, and when Bennett turns to face her, she's looking at him with a shielded expression. "I hope you know what you're doing."

* * *

 

Bennett's on the bed, on his back, Austin above him and kissing him lazily. Austin rolls away, evidently done, and Bennett's thrown by the abruptness. "Austin?"

Austin turns to him, eyebrow raised, expression condescending. "Yes?"

"Aren't you going to come back? Come and... kiss me?" Bennett asks, hesitant.

Austin gets up leisurely, leaving Bennett there, staring after him as ice pours into his veins. "I was just playing with you. It was cute, how you really believed I had _feelings_ for you."

"What?" Bennett gets out, hoarse.

"C'mon," Austin says, smiling meanly, grinning teeth filling his mouth, turning it sharp. "You didn't really think anyone would ever want you, did you?"

Bennett wakes up then - or, well, a more accurate description would be that he _jolts_ awake, gasping and sweating, drenching where the collar of his shirt sticks to his skin and at his temples, slicking his hair.

His heart is pounding, and he lets out a long, relieved breath when he realizes it's not real, that he's in his bedroom, dark except for the dimmed light of the streetlamp across the street behind their house, filtering in through the cracks of his blinds and giving just enough light to make everything grayscale. He runs a hand over his head, dragging his bangs off his face, feeling the dampness at the root.

It seems ridiculous to be so worked up over a nightmare, especially one so far removed from a scenario where he's in real danger or has a threat of dying, but those are easier to shake. He can easily brush off the dreams where he falls from a height he couldn't survive and jerks awake; this dream seems far too close to his own waking fears for him to shake off its hold. He can easily imagine Austin turning to him tomorrow and saying those exact words, and it scares him.

* * *

 

Bennett's a good liar. He can give a more convincing debate than most when he doesn't even believe what he's saying, can look a teacher in the face and have any of them convinced he's strictly only involved with the most well-behaved peers even while Cooper's attempting to kick Peter in the shins, can tell his mother he was somewhere he wasn't without blinking, can convince an entire student body to vote for him and like him when he doesn't talk to nearly any of them on a regular basis. Bennett normally doesn't lie, if only because he doesn't think it's right to lie to get extensions he doesn't deserve or similar things, but he's good at it, and not everyone is aware of that about him, even those close to him.

Jasmine knows, she's known him for years. Austin's only known him for months. When Austin looks at him, the paleness in his face and growing darkness under his eyes, and asks if he's okay, Bennett smiles and lies to his face. "I've just been worried about my Biology test that's later this week." He doesn't have a test, but none of their friends share that class with him.

Austin's face fades into concern. "Don't overwork yourself."

Bennett's smile doesn't face. "Of course."

Austin leaves him alone. It's what Bennett wanted, but in a strange way he's disappointed - he thought for sure that Austin could tell the difference between the smile he puts on for show and the genuine ones.

The water's rising over his head. It's getting harder to breathe, gasping for air.

* * *

 

The school halls are draped in pink and red, hearts and little cupids plastered everywhere. Jasmine makes a face at the decorations.

"You know what I love?" Jasmine asks, "Chocolate. To me, for me, from me. No boys involved."

Cooper snorts. "Why don't you tell us how you really feel, Jazz?"

"You're just cranky because Luc isn't here," she snipes.

Cooper just lazily flips her the finger. Evidently, there has been some discussion of feelings, or something of the sort, because the teasing hasn't bothered Cooper half as much as it used to. That could just be attributed to Luc not being in immediate proximity while he's being mocked, but Bennett gets the impression it has to be more than that.

 _Did you kiss Cooper and not tell the rest of us_ , Bennett texts Luc, mostly making fun of him, still a sliver of genuinely curious.

 _Fuck off_ , Luc answers, which could be interpreted as a yes from most anyone else, but is really just Luc refusing to answer at all. Then, another message on its heels, _He cried in my hospital room saying he was sorry. Don't tell any1._

_I need you Luc, I love you Luc_

_Ur a menace, go away. Kiss babies to bcome school prez or smth._

_3333_

_Srsly, don't say anything._

Bennett can feel his lips twitch, but pockets his phone and doesn't say anything as he was asked.

An arm's suddenly flung around his shoulders, and Bennett jumps. He turns to see Austin's face, hovering uncomfortably close, evidently surprised at Bennett's own jumpiness. He sees Austin brush his own reaction off, pulls his face away just a little, back into comfortable, socially acceptable realms. "What about you, slick? You have some secret Valentine's plans on the backburner?"

Bennett can feel ice water dumped into his veins. He was afraid of this - even if everyone within vicinity knows about them now, whatever _them_ is, that was only part of what Bennett made afraid of everything Austin is, everything he inspires in him, the boy himself.

"Staying in with my mom," Bennett lies easily, smiling like it's a natural reaction, not one he's put on like an actor following stage directions. "She's worked all week and I haven't seen, I promised her I'd spend time with her since I'm not dating anyone anyway."

Bennett doesn't miss Austin's minute flinch. "Right," he says, voice even, but artificially so, too smooth to be genuine, like an ice rink made of glass.

"What about you?" Bennett asks. It could just be taken as typical polite conversation, asking in return the question he was asked. He's deliberately ignoring what he noticed of Austin's reaction.

Austin smiles, noticeably artificial. "Nothing, really. Thought I might have plans, but they fell through."

The thing about a lie, Bennett has learned, is that they work best if there remains an element of truth to them, or at least something conceivably true. The trick is, if you chose to place something truth among the lies, you must be careful enough to make sure that if the person listening can find the piece of truth, that they can't unravel the whole statement into what the liar was trying to say and trying to achieve.

Bennett's had much more practice than Austin, and now that he knows Austin, he's not nearly as good of a liar as Bennett originally believed he was when they first met. Austin led him around, saying things that weren't untrue but could easily support whatever assumptions Bennett had jumped to. Bennett doesn't think that Austin realizes yet that he's no longer the puppetmaster, the one that can pick up the strings at any time, even if he no longer tries to lead Bennett around for fun in a miniature play of his own making starring real characters.

Austin's not the one easily in control, not even the one that can keep everyone else behind a wall so they can't see what he's playing at. The wall's turned to glass, easy for Bennett to see through, easy to shatter completely.

Austin meant to ask him out, officially. Make something of whatever they are.

It's the opposite of his nightmare. Possibly, it terrifies him even more.

Even with his face turned up, doing all he can to tread water, to breathe, the water closes over. He's drowning.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was stupid to get involved with Austin, he knew that from the very beginning, from when Austin pushed into his space and they exchanged biting kisses, more antagonistic than romantic, when Bennett was burning up from the inside, passionate anger rather than any other more loving kind. Bennett's known that this was stupid for months, been perfectly aware he has the ability to stop it, that Austin's polite and understanding enough to back down when he's been told to, but Bennett never wanted to. Still doesn't.

Valentine's is quiet. Bennett watches other couples in the hallway, takes in Alison's brilliant smile, carefully ignores where he feels Austin's gaze on the side of his face.

He does stay home in the evening, that's not a lie, but his mother doesn't come until after dinner, kisses him sleepily on the cheek and retreats into the den.

Bennett stands with his palms flat on the island, head dropped between the cage of his arms, breathing deeply to calm himself. His hands are shaking.

He stays there until he feels close to calm, his breathing steady again, his hands still. He has his mother back, and he wonders if it would have been better to come out to her when the rebuilding of their relationship was still new and fragile, if it would have been easier to let go. He loves her now, always has, but now in a way that feels real and tangible and something he has the possibility of getting to keep, in a way where he knows that she wants him and loves him just the same. The idea of losing it terrifies him in a way he doesn't how to articulate, almost doesn't want to think of at all. He doesn't have the luxury of ignoring his problems, however.

Bennett runs a hand through his hair, breathes in and out, schools his expression until it covers the uneasiness roiling in his chest. He goes into the living room, asks if his mother would listen to him play on the piano and practice, and doesn't acknowledge how her smile when she agrees feels like a knife to the chest, fracturing him apart.

* * *

 

Bennett thought he was intelligent - and he is, within a certain definition of it. He's realizing, however, that it's not all encompassing, and that he's gotten himself into something that he's not entirely sure how to get out of.

It was stupid to get involved with Austin, he knew that from the very beginning, from when Austin pushed into his space and they exchanged biting kisses, more antagonistic than romantic, when Bennett was burning up from the inside, passionate anger rather than any other more loving kind. Bennett's known that this was stupid for months, been perfectly aware he has the ability to stop it, that Austin's polite and understanding enough to back down when he's been told to, but Bennett never wanted to. Still doesn't.

It's even more difficult now. Before it was about some sort of perceived victory, pulling one over on Austin, and then walking away, content to know who had truly won in the context of that battle. It's not about that anymore. Bennett cares about Austin, the person, the boy that went with him to find his missing friend early in the morning, the boy that edged up beside him as a silent ally when he saw his father, the boy that's always throwing his arm around Bennett when he's in reach. So many actions that meant irritation have turned into comfort.

Bennett thinks maybe this would be easier if Austin was a girl, but he's come to terms with himself to think that's unlikely, that he wouldn't truly have come to the same place he is, the same way he feels about Austin, if Austin were anything other than what he is. Bennett's not even sure he could fall for a girl at all, and that's something that frightens him, just another in a hand of cards that he feels like anyone could lay down, put on display and show to his mother who her son really is.

Even then, Bennett's stayed with Austin after the original storm because Austin, who once poked at his vulnerability, now helps Bennett with it. He's always been good at forcing Bennett to face what he may not want to, but what he needs to. And Bennett supposes that's what makes the difference - Austin's not who he wanted, but perhaps who he needed. He's grown since they met, in ways he thinks is for the better. Bennett's always been protective, always been perceptive, but now he actually makes use of it, aids his friends and isn't afraid to tell them when they need to face up to something.

He thinks maybe it's time he did the same for himself.

* * *

 

Austin's been quiet since he tried to ask Bennett out before Valentine's. Bennett gave an excuse, lied to Austin to avoid a direct rejection, but Austin's still been dejected, like some part of him understood what Bennett was truly trying to do, or perhaps felt fate was intervening to tell him something.

Bennett doesn't like the look on him. The Austin's he's used to is so bright he blinds.

Most of their teachers are already talking about SATs as if they're just around the corner, instead of in May. Bennett rolls his eyes. As if he hasn't been away of them the whole year, lurking in the back of his mind. Bennett's always provided himself on his academic success, even if he no longer defines himself by it the way he used to.

"Those were a bitch last year," Jasmine says, flipping her hair back after Cooper brings it up. Cooper rolls his eyes. He's been jittery ever since Luc told them he was coming back next week.

"Like you didn't eat the math section alive," Cooper snarks.

Jasmine shrugs. "Well, yeah, but English kicked my ass. We can't all be a Jack of all trades like this one," Jasmine says, hooking a thumb at Bennett, who frowns.

Peter speaks before Bennett can. "Isn't the actual quote 'Jack of all trades, master of none?'"

Jasmine tilts her head. "Is it? Well, then that really doesn't fit, does it?"

Austin snorts. "You can say that again." He's leaning back against the lockers, seemingly casual to anyone that doesn't know him well, but Bennett can see how he's holding himself just outside of the space of the group, the careful distance. He hasn't so much as touched Bennett since he attempted to ask him out, has barely even spoken directly to him instead of within the group.

Bennett pulls Austin aside once the rest of their group clears out to go home in their various methods. Austin blinks at him. "You're going to miss your bus."

Bennett lifts his eyebrows. "I remember your mother saying I was welcome at any time, unless that no longer stands?"

Austin's face eclipses into relief, a smile lighting up his expression. Bennett's missed it.

* * *

 

Jennifer's evidently missed him, because the first thing she says when she sees Bennett is, "Oh, you're not dead."

"Gem!" Austin snaps, but Bennett's laughing, so his anger instantly dies, and he turns to stare at Bennett instead.

"Missed you too, Jenny," Bennett tells her, and a smile pulls at her lips, but she huffs like she's annoyed and disappeared, apparently too good to pretend to like her brother's friends.

"Huh," Austin says speculatively, and Bennett bumps him with his hip, jarring him out of his own head and back into reality. Austin wraps his arm around Bennett's hip, and Bennett feels like he's burning where they touch, fights down his automatic reaction of a flush rising in his face.

Austin's parents won't be home for another few hours, so Austin makes Jennifer a snack, the two of them snarking back and forth. It took Bennett quite a while to figure out that Bennett wasn't just suffering through the caretaking routine, that he genuinely likes being responsible and taking care of her, would never skimp on anything he feels he's supposed to do no matter how badly she gets on his nerves. Austin knows the difference between being angry at something someone does and being angry at that person themself, and knows how to separate it.

"I forgot to ask, do you want anything?" Austin asks, apple slice hanging out of his mouth, and Bennett has to fight not to snicker at how ridiculous he looks.

"I'm good," Bennett says, amusement creeping into his tone. Jennifer stretces greedy fingers across the island countertop, and Austin smacks them away.

"Wait, devil figure," Austin admonishes.

Jennifer doesn't even blink, so she must be used to being compared to Satan. "You're supposed to be _nicer_ when Bennett visits," she whines, and Austin's hands still, looking shocked, having a revelation of his own. Jennifer filches an apple slice from beneath his lax hands, his reflexes slackened and unaware. He glowers when Jennifer pulls back, munching away happily. "You snooze you lose."

Austin blows air into her face, and Jennifer shrieks. She looks ready to get up and attack Austin when they hear the door from the garage open, and she settles, seemingly content not to bring their parents into the argument.

Mrs. Haroldes face lights up when she sees him, and she hurries to put her armful of grocery bags on the counter, moves immediately to embrace Bennett when she's unladen. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever," she says, and Austin coughs unsubtly. She pulls back, hands on Bennett's shoulders to get a look at him. "Here I was, worrying you and Austin might've broken up or gotten into a fight."

"Mom!" Austin cries, scandalized, and when Bennett looks at him his face is turning red.

"What?" His mother says breezily. "Did you think I didn't know?"

Austin looks mortified.

"Anyway, it's good to see you," Mrs. Haroldes says.

"You look like stop sign," Jennifer tells her brother, and Austin swats at her, the blush spreading to his ears.

Mrs. Haroldes clears her throat. "Here, Austin, I'll finish that up. You can hang out with your..." her eyes slide to Bennett. "Friend."

Austin buries his face in his heads.

"Come on, wash up," she says, forcing him to wash the sticky apple juices off his hand and then shoos Austin from the kitchen.

Austin leads Bennett up to his room, and after he's closed the door, turns to Bennett and says, "I'm so sorry."

Bennett sits on Austin's bed, maybe a bit hard, because he bounces. "What for?"

"For my mom," Austin says, and heaves a sigh. "I know we're not really..."

"Dating?" Bennett says, raising and eyebrow. Austin rubs the back of his neck. "Did you want to be?"

Austin's head whips up, staring at Bennett with wide eyes. "You...?"

Bennett shrugs, suddenly uncomfortable. "I'm... Look, I've never been with anyone before. You're my first kiss. Even if there are a lot of things I'm not sure about, I'm sure about you."

Austin crawls over Bennett, settling in his lap, causing Bennett to lean back so they don't bump noses. He cups Bennett's jaw, kisses him so softly that it makes his chest ache. Austin pulls away, just spends a moment where they breathe into each other's mouth. "You're going to have to tell me more about that first kiss thing," he says, and Bennett laughs.

Bennett pushes off of him, and Austin lands spread eagle on the comforter, bouncing slightly. He looks annoyed until Bennett crawls on top of him, straddling his hips, and when Austin's hands come up to touch him Bennett grabs them both by the wrist and pins them to the bed. "I'm touching you right now."

Austin looks at him with speculative and appreciative eyes. "You're bossy in bed, aren't you?"

Austin tries to lift his hands up, likes he's tested, and Bennett presses down harder, digging in. Austin could get free if he wanted to, has the strength to throw off Bennett's weight. The only way he's staying there is if he wants to.

When Bennett presses back, Austin's lips part, breathing becoming heavier in a way that's gratifying. "Hell yeah you are."

Bennett leans down and kisses Austin, who surges up into it, reciprocation more eagerly than Bennett's experienced between them.

* * *

 

By the time they've been called down for dinner, Bennett has a blooming hickey hidden beneath the collar of his shirt, and Austin's got fading pink circles around his wrists. Mrs. Haroldes just raises her eyebrows at them, which Austin seems to miss, but Bennett blushes at.

They're all eating dinner, as usual as it's been every time Bennett's visited, when Mrs. Haroldes puts her silverware down, looks straight at Austin, and asks, "So how long have you two been dating?"

Austin chokes.

Mrs. Haroldes stares at Austin's until he's calmed down and then raises an eyebrow.

"I could have died," Austin whines.

"It would take a lot for some food to kill you," his mother replies dryly.

Jennifer snickers, and her father flicks her. Jennifer pouts, rubbing the spot.

"I don't know," Austin mumbles. "A while?"

Mrs. Haroldes raises both eyes, not placated by his answer.

Austin coughs. "We weren't really... defined as anything, for a long time."

His mother's brows rise even higher.

Mr. Haroldes sighs. "You know that relationships have changed as times become more modern. A lot of people don't even get married."

Mrs. Haroldes rolls her eyes. "I understand that, Brian. That doesn't mean I wouldn't still like our son to tell us when there's someone important in his life."

Austin sinks down in his chair and covers his face.

"Don't give me that," Mrs. Haroldes scolds him.

"Do you have to do this in front of Bennett?" Austin mumbles.

"Well maybe I wouldn't have had to, if you hadn't kept this a secret," she admonishes, practically verbally wagging her finger at him.

Bennett clears his throat, catching the attention of everyone at the table. "That's kind of my fault."

Austin raises his head, sitting straight suddenly. "Bennett -"

Bennett shakes his head, cutting him off. He turns back to Mrs. Haroldes, focuses solely on her, pushes Austin out of his focus. "I know how accepting your family is. I know that you accept whoever Austin brings into his life and into yours because he cares about them, but my family isn't exactly the same. He didn't tell you because I didn't want him to."

Mrs. Haroldes stares at him with horror on her face. Her hand lifts up to cover her open mouth, seemingly unconsciously. "You never even implied..."

Bennett shrugs. "It's not exactly something I go around sharing freely."

Mrs. Haroldes shakes her head, like she's shaking herself out of her emotional reaction, shouldering on motherhood so she can care for Bennett. It makes him uncomfortable in a distant way, though he's grateful that she cares enough to try, even if the way she feels about him is only really by proxy, caring about him because her son does. "Of course, I shouldn't have..."

Bennett smiles, the fake one meant to influence whoever he's speaking to. "Don't worry about it. It wasn't for you to deal with."

"No," Mrs. Haroldes says firmly. "Listen, if you ever need a place to stay, if where you are ever becomes dangerous, you come to us, do you understand? You're practically a part of this family."

Bennett blinks at her, and even if he knows that being a part of their family is an exaggeration, that he and Austin are far from a certainty and they truly know what he's like, he's complimented that the Haroldes would tell him something with so much meaning. He nods to her. "Thank you," he says, though he doesn't know if he has any real intention of taking them up on it, even if it comes to that. He's too used to fighting to know how to back down, even when he's putting himself at risk. The way he and Austin got at each other taught him that much about himself.

After dinner, when Bennett's leading the way to Austin's bedroom, Austin stops him in the upstairs hallway and crowds up in his front. "You were lying when you had a Biology test," he says, and Bennett blinks, having to rewind to understand what Austin's talking about. He often remembers what he was trying to conceal better than what he said to conceal it.

Bennett realises, with a jolt, that Austin did recognize the fake smile on his face after all, that he just needed to see it action to remember what it looked like used against him. Bennett thinks he should be contrite, maybe worried, that Austin figured out his lie, but instead he's relieved that Austin could parse the real emotion from the acting.

"What were you hiding?" Austin demands.

"I lied about my Valentine's plans," Bennett tells him, running a hand down the side of Austin's face. Austin blinks, thrown off. "I knew you were going to ask me. I was scared."

"And now?" Austin asks. It's not an accusation, but pure inquiry.

Bennett mouth quirks up, the smile half-hearted, a little melancholy. "I'm still scared. But bravery is doing something even when you're scared, because you know it's worth it, right?"

Austin kisses him, soft as sunlight's rays, soft as petals unfolding when the flower blooms, soft as a lullaby's muted notes down the hall from a baby's room. Bennett reaches up, tangles his fingers into Austin's hair, and kisses him back.

He gets to have this. And yes, it terrifies him, feels like he's drowning, that his heart if beating from his chest, that he's burning up, but he's tired of playing the coward. He used to think that doing something for what you wanted was what defined selfishness, but now he's realizing that he's just chasing his own happiness, giving some to Austin, keeping his friends from shaking their heads at him as they see him shut everything away.

Bennett's heard thousands of time about how family isn't something you choose, and in a way that's true. Here he's choosing Austin, and he just has to hope that his own family loves him enough to continue to choose him after. It's out of his hands now. And as frightening as the idea is, there's also some freedom in it.

* * *

 

Jasmine's eyes catch on Austin's wrists the next morning, where there are light bruises left behind. "Kinky," she comments, raising an eyebrow, like she's impressed.

Peter turns to look, and then groans when his eyes catch on the fading bruises, covering his eyes. "That's way more than I ever needed to know about your sex life."

"I honestly didn't think you had it in you," Alison says, and whistles. Bennett doesn't know whether to scowl at her or roll her eyes.

Austin rolls his shoulders back as he grins, arm muscles flexing unconsciously. He looks unabashedly proud.


	32. Chapter 32

Bennett cooks dinner together with his mother the next day, her chattering away to him in the calming wash of Japanese, and she talks about her co-workers, complaining. She has more humour than Bennett released, perhaps because he's used to the snap and crackle of her English, accent edging the words like a knife.

He wants to tell her about Austin, but he's too afraid.

* * *

 

Bennett has seen Austin's family, seen other versions of the typical white suburban American family, and he understands that his love is different.

He thinks that maybe Austin's felt that Bennett is broken, that he doesn't understand true emotion and expression, but Bennett doesn't believe that about himself. He does live with cautions, half-measures; Austin, both in the before and the now, is the most reckless thing he's ever been. Bennett loves his mother, would not hesitate to say so if asked, but he knows its not the same way that Austin's parents look at their children, the way Austin looks back. Bennett's love is fractured, guarded. He has heard Austin's parents tell them that they love him, that they're proud of him. Until they cleared their understanding, Bennett had never heard his mother say the same.

Austin lives in black and white, with those he loves and trusts whole-heartedly, and doesn't; Bennett is in the grey.

Bennett loves his mother. That much is a certainty, it always will be. He is not among those that believe if you tell someone something important about you and they reject you for it that they were never worth the time in the first place. He knows there are things about him that aren't his fault, that are beyond his control, and that much he has come to accept. Even so, his mother's attentions still seem so new, so fragile, a butterfly with barely fluttering wings, that he can't imagine cupping that growing hope in his palms and crushing it by his own strength.

Bennett's mother could spit in his face, could turn cold and stone before his eyes, and he would still love her. She will always be his mother, and that's not something he would believe Austin could understand, even with Bennett's explanation, and it's not something Bennett would change even if he knew how.

Bennett is his mother, and she is him.

* * *

 

Bennett has stopped flinching when Austin grabs his hand in school hallways, stopped freezing when he throws an arm around his shoulders. He doesn't think the lurch of fear will stop happening for quite a while, but he doesn't say anything to Austin.

He wants this. He can admit that to himself now, that he wants Austin, all of him, but its hard to live with that contrasted with everything he's been afraid of for so long.

"Can I come over?" Austin asks one day after school, face buried into the nape of Bennett's neck, draped over his back. Bennett's used to it by now; Austin knows how to keep his weight off enough not to crush Bennett under his frame.

"Hmm?" Bennett hums, sorting through his locker for what he needs to bring over.

Austin lifts his head so he can speak more clearly. "Can I come over?"

Bennett looks over his shoulder at Austin in confusion.

Austin shrugs. "I've only been inside like, once. I feel like that's not really very boyfriends?"

Bennett stares silently at Austin, book clenched in his hand but expression blank, for long enough that Austin shifts uncomfortably.

"Or not...?" Austin corrects.

Bennett lets out a deep breath, trying to settle himself, and turns back around, focusing on organization again. "No, its okay."

He can hear Austin sigh behind him. "Yeah?"

Bennett smiles at him over his shoulder, but it feels wane. "Yeah."

If Austin notices the paleness to Bennett's face, the tension in his expression, which he must, then he doesn't mention it.

* * *

 

"Do your parents know?" Austin asks on the drive over. Bennett doesn't have to ask know what Austin means.

"No," he admits quietly, suddenly nervous that Austin will be upset with him and with his secrecy, which he hadn't considered before. It had seemed so personal to Bennett, but of course it involves Austin too.

Austin just nods sharply. He drives for another few minutes, and then reaches out and quietly squeezes Bennett's hand before releasing it.

Bennett thinks he breathes a little easier.

* * *

 

Bennett enters the house quietly, Austin at his back, a quiet but steady presence.

" _Mom_?" he calls into the echoing house.

" _In the kitchen_ ," she responds. Bennett gestures Austin to follow him and heads towards her.

He greets her in Japanese, and then quickly tells her that this is his friend Austin. She looks over at him, gauging, and then back at Bennett, sharp.

Bennett stares steadily back to resist flinching.

"It's good to meet you, Austin," his mother says, in barely accented English.

Austin blinks, but recovers quickly, and then meets the hand his mother's extended and shakes it quickly. "You too, um, Mrs. Cole."

"Ms. Shiragaki," his mother corrects as she pulls away. "I haven't been Mrs. Cole for a long time."

Austin looks at Bennett out of the corner of his eye. Bennett realizes that he told Austin his parents were divorced, but not when. His parents have been divorced for longer than they were together, and the way their relationship exists has been part of Bennett's reality for a long time.

Bennett's mother doesn't tell Austin to call her by her first name, not like Austin's parents insist he do. She doesn't ask about their friendship. Despite being a near foot shorter than Austin out of heels, she stares up at him, eyes hard and blank.

" _Mom_ ," he murmurs to her, and she flickers a glance at him, seeming to have forgotten he was there for a moment. It's not in the flighty way his dad sometimes does it, but instead the exact reverse, like she'd become so hyper focused that she couldn't see anything beyond the centre of her attention.

She touches his arm briefly, and then disappears into the house. There is a bitter taste on his tongue, and despite misreading what his mother wanted from him for years, he's very good at reading her opinion of others, and he has the distinct impression that she disapproves of Austin.

"What was that?" Austin whispers to him, looking perplexed at the quick flurry of Japanese and subtle body language that had passed right over his head.

"Nothing," Bennett tells him, and then steers Austin towards the stairs, too afraid of staying in the den and having his mother listen in.

* * *

 

"Was it just me or was she dropping the room temperature by like ten degrees?" Austin asks when Bennett closes his bedroom door behind them. Whatever his mother may think of Austin, he's sure she hasn't assumed the truth.

Bennett rolls his eyes when he turns to face Austin again. "I'm pretty sure she doesn't like you."

Austin's eyebrows scrunch together. "She spoke like, five words."

Bennett wiggles his fingers in front of his face, in a sign mimicking something like telepathy. "Who's lived with her for sixteen years?"

Austin rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. But still, what could I have said? I only introduced myself and she like, stared at me."

Bennett shrugs uncomfortably. "I couldn't tell you." He could. His mother knows Bennett, is good at reading him, and could probably tell by his body language how comfortable he was with Austin. That Bennett hadn't introduced him before probably made her suspicious, not to mention that she seemed to dislike that Austin was a white man, not that she'd ever say so. Bennett had heard enough rants about those his mother had dealt with as the head of her own business to know that his mother had a bit of a bias, and he's sure she's fine with some of us friends being what they are, but the fact that he doesn't have a single Japanese American friend to speak of probably annoys her.

Austin stares at Bennett. "Does it bother you?"

Bennett blinks at Austin in surprise, caught off guard. "What?"

Austin shrugs. "That she doesn't like me. Does it make you feel caught between us?"

Bennett honestly hadn't considered that aspect of it. They were both people important to him, and felt so separate it was hard to put together in his mind what he wanted from each of them. He wanted to keep Austin, but he wanted to keep his mother too, and he often wasn't sure if he could have both. The turmoil over telling his mother had never made him consider breaking things off with Austin, which in hindsight seemed strange, but it had honestly never occurred to Bennett as a option.

"A little. But that's not bad, because it means I care about you both, yeah?" Bennett tells Austin after a beat of self-reflection, words hesitant and awkward, but Austin just smiles back at him.

"I think so," Austin tells him.

Bennett's nervous Austin will try to start something, want to kiss him and incite fear in Bennett of being caught and having his secrets torn into the open before he's ready, but Austin never makes any sort of movement hinting at anything of the sort. They hang out side by side on Bennett's bed, Austin flipping through Bennett's old yearbooks and family photos for fun and getting excited at the photos of him as a child, shoulder pressed warm and steady against Bennett's.

"You were serious even as a kid," Austin says at one point, tracing a the line of Bennett's brow in a picture of him at seven years old in one of his first Spelling Bees, a ribbon around his neck but no trace of a smile to speak of.

Bennett shrugs. "I was angry I lost in that one. I think there's a picture in there where I'm smiling and I have the trophy or something."

Austin snorts. "So simple."

"I was pretty young. I don't think my world revolved around a lot." Bennett stares at the younger reflection of his face, thinking of how it feels like he's looking at an entirely different boy with an entirely different life.

"Your dad was still around then?" Austin asks, voice quiet like he isn't the question is allowed.

Bennett leans against Austin's shoulder, wordless forgiveness. "Yeah, in this one he was. I couldn't tell you exactly which pictures are the ones that cross over between when they were together and apart, but it was sometime after that. I was about seven."

"Seven?" Austin says incredulously. "That's so young."

Bennett shrugs. "Old enough to be aware of what was going on, young enough to adapt easily enough. I'm more used to them being apart."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"Sometimes. But I think I'd be even unhappier if they were still trying to stay together even though there was nothing left to keep them married except for me."

Austin's silent, and Bennett turns to look at him, studying his profile. "I'm okay, you know that right?"

Austin sighs. "I know, but I just... I feel like you're missing out on a lot."

"It's my life, Austin," Bennett reminds him, perhaps a bit too sharply, since Austin turns to look at him again, eyes off the younger version of him. "I'm not unhappy. There are what ifs, but who doesn't live with those? I'm not broken. My childhood didn't ruin me, my parents didn't turn me into some academic robot. They weren't perfect, and neither am I, but I don't hate myself."

"I never meant to imply that," Austin says softly, taking one of Bennett's hands in his own. "I just worry about you. I feel like you deserve so much more than you've been given."

"I'm imperfect, Austin," Bennett says. "And I won't let you hate my parents for not being the same as yours."

Austin's eyes widen in surprise, hands stilling where he'd been circling his thumbs over Bennett's hand. "How did you-"

"I know you," Bennett interrupts. "Even if you don't think I do."

Austin was silent, and then he turned his head, resting his forehead against Bennett's temple. "I don't mean to. I just see how you get quiet and tense, lost in some sort of memory, and I resent them for making you that way."

"Do you wish I was different?" Bennett asked quietly, suddenly afraid of the answer.

"I wish you were happier, that you felt secure and loved, but I want that for you, not because of anything I'm looking for from you. There's nothing wrong with you."

"Good," Bennett says. "Then don't treat me like there is."

Austin presses a soft kiss to Bennett's temple, a wordless apology.

* * *

 

That's partway into March.

The rest of the month is a slow wash in and out, barely noticeable, like the tide. Bennett forgets to wear green on St. Patrick's day and Austin pinches him so hard he yelps, attracting half the attention in the hallway, not helped by Austin's uproarious laughter. Austin invites Bennett over for Easter, which he rejects, giving Austin the honest explanation of being uncomfortable with the religious aspect of the day and being around Austin's family for it, which Austin accepts though he tries to change Bennett's mind, telling him he'd do what he could to make him comfortable.

"You're actually dating him, for real?" Jasmine asks him at the end of the month, both of them leaning against the bank of lockers and watching Austin rough house with Cooper.

"Yeah," Bennett replies. "It's still a bit surreal."

"Your parents don't know?"

"No," Bennett tells her, and he doesn't have to feel guilty about that with Jasmine. He knows she understands, in her own way. "I don't intend for them to know, at least not right now. I'm sure one day."

Jasmine leans into his side. "You've always got us."

Bennett watches Austin catch Cooper under his arm, Cooper calling out to Luc for help, who's watching him with crossed arms and an amused expression, obviously having no interest in joining the fray. Alison, however, jumps onto Austin's back, startling him.

"I know," Bennett says, and means it.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bennett used to hate himself angry, the way he was when he first met Austin, untempered words and reckless action, unfounded scorn, irrationality. He was his worst then, but he doesn't think that's true anymore -- remembers the clarity he felt when furious with Emery, the way he still, in some way, understood what had led them there. Razor-sharp and focused, instead of wildfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long guys, I've been having some mental health ups and downs, so while I had the time I didn't really have the energy to buckle down and get this out. This might seen a little disjointed since it was written in two parts. I also felt that the whole situation with Peter felt a bit unresolved, like he kind of got away with a slap on the wrist, so I wanted to address that, especially since we're closing in on the end of the story and it should only be a few more chapters until the whole thing is done. (That seems so surreal, its been over two years since I started writing this?)

Bennett's gotten used to the Haroldes and their way of things, and so when he visits Austin now he hardly feels as hesitant as he did when Bennett barely knew the family. He's still quiet, still prefers to be with Austin by themselves than the whole of the family, but they don't seem offended by his behaviour, beginning to understand Bennett himself.

So it's strange when Bennett comes over to visit in early April, Easter creeping up but Bennett keeping firm to his refusal to join the family for the holiday, that Austin keeps barring Bennett from entering his room. His excuses, which were not allover convincing from the start, are now hanging by the thread of believable.

Bennett wonders how it is that when Austin doesn't care about someone, he can be a virtuoso of human emotions, playing with people like the strings of a violin. Now that he and Austin are close, now that Austin is fond of him (and perhaps more, though Bennett is not in a place to be perusing that concept just yet), he is an appalling liar.

"Considering that we've ever once had your family invade the privacy of your room, nor has there ever been threat of an invasion of fire ants, I think we're fine," Bennett says drily. He's hoping with some pushing Austin will tell him whats bothering him on his own.

Austin sighs heavily, dropping his arms and letting his shoulders relax from their hunch, stopping from barring Bennett. He must sense defeat. "I... well, in truth, I'm embarrassed."

Bennett's thrown off. "Of what?"

Austin rubs the back of his neck, a flush rising up it from beneath the collar of his shirt, lingering at the tips of his ears. "Since my parents realised we're dating, they'be been keen to, uh, make sure I'm prepared."

Bennett thinks he catches Austin's meaning, but desperately hopes it's not what he's assuming. "Prepared for what?" he murmurs, feeling a blush rising into his own skin, wanting to hide his face.

Austin avoids his eyes. "Uh, they already gave me the whole birds and the birds talk, but decided it needed a revising under current circumstances." He looks up at the ceiling, skin reddening further. "They also gave me things. Things to be safe. Safe when you're... having sex. Gay sex."

Bennett gives into the urge to hide his face, burying it in his hands.

"They're just being accepting," Austin assures, words quick, belying his own unease. "Its not... its not anything we have to do. I don't expect anything."

"They think we're having sex," Bennett whispers into his own hands, mortified.

"I don't know if they already think that or if they just assume we will at some point."

Bennett shakes his head, refusing to lift his face out of his hands. He can't believe this. He wants to crawl into a hole a disappear, preferably forever.

"Ben?"

"I can never look them in the eyes again," Bennett mutters.

Austin snorts. "You're being over dramatic."

Bennett lifts his head to look at Austin incredulously. "You were near to claiming a possible flesh eating bug invasion in order to avoid this conversion."

Austin points a finger at Bennett. "Point."

Bennett rolls his eyes.

"I should also probably warn you that my parents might also try to give you 'the talk' since they know you haven't told your own parents," Austin informs him.

Bennett stares at Austin. "If that's a joke, it's not funny."

Austin shrugs, and Bennett can feel his receding flush come back in full force. Austin laughs at the sight of it, seeming to relish the turn of fortune.

In a small fit of malice in revenge for Austin's laughter, Bennett asks, "So did your parents have to guess the condom size you needed or did you have to tell them?"

The mirth dies from Austin's face. Bennett can feel a smug smile tugging at the edges of his lips, and fights to hold it back. Judging by Austin's glare, he thinks he's not entirely successful.

"You're evil," Austin tells him, boxing Bennett against the wall. They're in the upstairs hallway connecting to all the bedrooms, alone in the house, Jennifer out at soccer practice with her parents. Bennett thinks Austin planned that, and he's grateful he doesn't have to face the embarrassment waiting at the hands of the Haroldes parents. When Austin leans in, trailing his nose up Bennett's throat, the gust of his heavy breathes making Bennett shiver, he's even more grateful they're gone.

"Is that so?" Bennett replies, surprised to hear his voice dropped to a sultry murmur. He sounds somehow sensual, and judging by Austin's sharp intake, he can hear it as well.

Austin doesn't reply, just ushers Bennett into his bedroom. Bennett laughs at Austin's urgency, a little flattered as well. Austin's unusually silent in response, so when Bennett looks up at him with curiosity, he sees Austin only staring down at him, fondness in his eyes. Bennett feels his amusement trail away, the two of them catching eyes and staring.

Austin suddenly drops his forehead to Bennett's shoulder, and Bennett jumps with it. "I want to. I've been thinking about it since my parents bought that shit for me, and I can't help it. But I'll wait. I'll wait as long as you want me to, if you ever want me to."

"I do," Bennett murmurs, something he's been afraid to admit to even himself. "I do. I can't, not now, but I think someday I will."

Austin breathes a sigh, placing his palm warm and heavy on the small of Bennett's back. "I'm happy with you. Does it make me stupid to be scared of losing that?"

Bennett closes his eyes, overwhelmed at the admission. "I don't think so." It's something he's thought himself; worried that he'll have to someday chose between his family, his mother, and Austin and dreading that. He already knows the choice he'd make, though it wouldn't be easy. He wouldn't chose Austin, and it feels like he'd be breaking both their hearts if he voiced that. They're too new, too unstable, their foundation made too much of fire and fury even if they're trying to build with stable walls now. It'll be a long time before Austin can outmatch what Bennett's mother is. He hopes they get the chance.

He doesn't want them to end before they've barely begun.

Bennett buries his face in Austin's hair, inhaling the scent of his shampoo. "I'm scared of this. Of having you, of losing you. But I want you despite it, somehow."

"Me too," Austin says.

They pause a moment, silence falling over the room as they both think to themselves. Bennett's jolted out of it when Austin suddenly bites down on his shoulder, yelping more out of surprise than any real pain.

Austin's laughing now, and Bennett swats at him, but he can't help but smile back at him. "I hate you," he says.

"No you don't," Austin says, taking Bennett's hands and pulling him closer.

He really doesn't.

* * *

 

After dinner, Austin's parents send a pouting Jennifer off to do her homework, which is uncharacteristic. Bennett sits stone still, knowing whats coming.

"Bennett, I think it's important that now you're in a serious relationship with another man, you should know some things your school's educational system wouldn't have told you," Mrs. Haroldes starts, face grave.

Bennett's going to stop her right there. "I appreciate this and how much you've accepted me into the fold of this family, but you really don't need to give me this talk." Bennett says, voice firm.

Mr. and Mrs. Haroldes exchange a look of surprise between each other for a moment before turning back to Bennett. "I really think you need to hear this -"

"I know it," Bennett cuts in, no voice for argument.

Mrs. Haroldes brows furrow. "And how so? Your parents wouldn't discussed this with you, so I really don't think any embarrassment is a good reason to avoid this."

Bennett looks away from the table, feeling a flush rise to his face. "I looked it up myself. On the internet."

Bennett can feel the wordless surprise around the table, and avoids all their eyes, his embarrassment growing. Mr. and Mrs. Haroldes lets the two of them go, and Austin corners Bennett by the stairwell. "Did you really?" he asks, curiosity glistening in his eyes.

Bennett's still pink, can feel the heat in his cheeks, but he tries to keep his gaze steady on Austin. "Yes."

He had, after the blowjob in the custodial closet. He'd wanted to be prepared; had the feeling things would happen before he expected them to, before any prior discussion. He feels foolish for it, but also relieved that it meant he could avoid the conversation with the Haroldes. He'd been looking for informational sites, and after the first few searches had led to sites he really _hadn't_  been looking for, he figured out to be a lot more careful with his wording.

Austin is looking at him with renewed interest, and Bennett can tell he's surprised him once again. There's thoughts churning behind his eyes, but he doesn't voice any of them, just shakes his head in some form of muted awe. "Come on, I wanted to show you a movie," he says, and leads Bennett away into the den. Bennett doesn't mind being alone with Austin, but he feels relieved, glad not to be spirited away to Austin's bedroom to be looked at with close scrutiny, squirming under Austin's assessing gaze.

Austin's getting much better at reading him.

* * *

 

They're approaching the Scholastic Decathlon head on, the last academic event of the year before the club disbands for the year so they can all buckle down for exams. Bennett used to be annoyed by it in past years, the directionless energy it left him with, but now he knows he'll need it since he's taking the SATs this year. Last year, thinking of it had left him both terrified and exhilarated; now its calmed to a steady determination, though Bennett thinks that's less the closing in of time on the event than it is the change within him. He's different than he was, a steady slow changing that can't be undone, like islands made from lava flows, like the shifting of tectonic plates. He's stronger for it too, he thinks, though that might purely be hope.

Peter's got himself up in arms again, and Bennett can feel that icing in his veins again, like when he called Cooper in the hospital, like when he hissed at Emery in the hallway like a snake. Peter wants to be the one competing in chemistry, when they all know Alison's the best for it, and his face is slowly reddening as he gets repeatedly denied. Mr. Oaken's not there yet, Bridget tries to calm Peter but he won't listen, especially after Jasmine gets to her feet and starts arguing back to Peter, telling him to stick a pin in his big head and hope it will deflate. Peter faces goes nearly purple, and he snaps something back, but Bennett's done listening.

Bennett gets smoothly to his feet, ignored at first by everyone but Austin, who briefly catches his eyes in curiosity and concern, and then leans back into his chair again when he reads purpose in Bennett's eyes. Bennett's bolstered by this, this trust in him, in his ability to make decisions, to lead.

He walks closer to the to two of them, Peter on one side of the room and Jasmine on the order, just a row behind, shouting over Bridget and Alison's heads at each other. Bennett needs only to place a light hand on Jasmine's shoulder, and she cedes with only a glance at him, her eyes at first still burning but then subsiding when she eyes his own anger, ice instead of fire, clear cut and sharp.

Bennett used to hate himself angry, the way he was when he first met Austin, untempered words and reckless action, unfounded scorn, irrationality. He was his worst then, but he doesn't think that's true anymore - remembers the clarity he felt when furious with Emery, the way he still, in some way, understood what had led them there. Razor-sharp and focused, instead of wildfire. Bennett feels the same way now, thinks of the unheeding slaps of Peter's words, the way he doesn't check himself, like he doesn't understand why he would need to. The way he still displays some possessiveness over Jasmine, the way he snapped at all of them but especially at Bennett.

Peter is jealous, Bennett suddenly knows, of all of them but especially of Bennett. Bennett remembers how much he liked Austin, more than the others, even or maybe especially after their dislike of each other came to the front. Peter was, is, a child that had seen someone who always won being taken down, had relished in that pettiness, in finally seeing someone who he couldn't quite hate but couldn't quite like either being made low. He's quieted, but Bennett isn't sure he's matured, maybe just seen that he doesn't have anyone or anywhere else to go.

Peter's the only one really still talking, still spitting mad, shouting words in Bennett and Jasmine's direction, though Bennett's tuning out the noise, so he's not sure who they're aimed at.

"Peter," he says, cutting into the din. Peter ignores him at first, still spitting, and so Bennett repeats himself, less patience and more of an edge, "Peter."

Peter does stop then, breathing hard. "None of you appreciate me. I'm always the one out of everyone that gets sidelined."

"Alison's the best one for this," Bennett says, trying diplomacy, though he can feel the inevitably of its failure, of the way Peter always turns things into a fight. "You can't fight the objectivity of that."

Peter turns to Alison, glaring at her like its her fault that she succeeds where he can't quite meet the mark, but Bennett has no time for scapegoating. He snaps his fingers, bringing Peter's attention back to him.

"You need to learn to control yourself, as you've so often failed to do, or you're a liability to this team as well as a repeatedly callous friend. If you are an infection within this group, I will cut it out," Bennett tells him, his voice steel. Bennett hears a sharp intake of breath behind him, thinks its Bridget, but he doesn't turn from Peter's eyes.

Peter's face is reddening again. "You're cruel, you know that? Everyone here would defend you, but you don't deserve it. Are none of us more than chess pieces and pawns? Am I not important? Ice Queen was right for you."

Bennett doesn't flinch; that name is beyond reaching him anymore. He knows if he waited, Peter would regret his words, would apologise, as he has before, but Bennett is tired. He thinks of his father, who at first called on the day of his birthday and holidays, but then slipped further and further back with apologises for the belated congratulations, then eventually forgot altogether. Bennett knows he was a child, but that his unwavering faithfulness also allowed some of the backsliding. He is older, he is harder, and he knows with certainty that he didn't deserve that then, and certainly doesn't have to put up with it now.

"Peter," he says, with implacable calm, "I genuinely do not fucking care."

The entire room is held in silence for the space of a few heartbeats, before everyone seems to finally take in what he said. Peter's eyes fill with fury, and he goes to fly at Bennett, right over the desk without bothering to go around. Bennett takes an automatic step back, but Austin's already intervening, grabbing Peter by the back of the shirt and hauling him around. Bennett blinks; he hadn't realised Austin had moved up behind him.

"What do you think?" Austin asks, giving Peter a shake like he's a ragdoll. It makes Bennett uncomfortable, reminds him of the predatory Austin he first met, the one that bared teeth and fought to make words sharp enough to draw first blood. It makes him feel cruel, the way Peter accused.

"Just remove him from the club as a member," Bennett says tiredly.

"You can't do that," Peter hisses, still thrashing, like a street cat someone tried to pick up.

"He can," Jasmine says, "he's the President of the club, and if we all give Mr. Oaken reason, he'll approve it."

Peter looks at her, eyes wide with betrayal, like he thought Jasmine would be the one to defend him. Bennett's last remaining anger drains away then, leaving only pity. Peter keep snapping at Jasmine, both to get her attention and in anger that he didn't already have it. Bennett's not sure if he was genuinely unaware that Jasmine's returned anger and dislike was true, not some sort of veil for sexual tension.

"Don't come back," Jasmine tells him, her teeth bared in a predatory reflection of a smile, something brutal in it. Bennett shivers, for he knows that a lot of Jasmine's checks on her anger and actions are other people, the same way a lot of her anger is driven by other people.

Austin goes to drag Peter out the door, perhaps throw him physically out of it, but Bennett can see the fight's gone out of Peter. He lays a hand on Austin's arm, meets his eyes. Austin argues silently with him for a moment but eventually relents, and Bennett takes Peters arm after Austin releases it, guides him flagging form to the door.

"How could you do this?" Peter asks, voice a whisper, and Bennett nearly flinches, guilt rearing its head. But he can't regret this, not really, only the gulf its made between Peter and his safety nets, only the bitter jealousy that made Peter into a more caustic version of who he was, that Bennett couldn't recognise that acidic hurt earlier. He knows what it feels like now, to be constantly undermined, to strive and work and still fall short, and he aches for how Peter must have felt that for years rather than Bennett's mere months.

"You can be better," Bennett tells him, voice lowered so the rest of the room can't hear them. "If you decide to be, if you make yourself to be, then come back. We'll find a place for you."

Peter looks at him, eyes burning renewed fury. "Don't act benevolent. This is your fault."

"What defines you as a person is not what happens to you," Bennett tells him, "but what you do in response, if you come out the other side of obstacles stronger or weaker than before. I never targeted you. You lived in my shadow, and you let that make you a worse man, instead of a better one, a humbled one."

Peter sneers him, upper lip pulled back from his teeth. "So high and mighty. You could do better?"

"I have," Bennett says, and then steps back and closes the door on Peter. It feels more than physical, but also metaphoric, in a way. A symbolic showing of their relationship.

"Should have done that months ago," Jasmine says when he turns back to the room, and Bennett can't help but roll his eyes.

They get back to business, trying to sort out their roles themselves, though Mr. Oaken should be coming soon to solidify it all. As everyone gets caught up again, moving forward though not dismissing what had transpired, Austin gently pulls Bennett aside to a quieter corner of the room.

"You don't always have to do these things yourself," Austin tells him, voice lowered, a note of concern worming its way in, though Bennett doesn't think Austin meant for it too. It wouldn't have mattered; Austin's a decent liar with his voice, but a terrible one with his expressions now that Bennett can read his face. It was written there plainly.

"I don't," Bennett says, "and yet I do."

Austin stares at him, confusion written all over his features, but Bennett isn't sure how to explain. He has friends to help him, he doesn't have to handle things alone as he used to. Still, he's the President of this club, the one that Peter held resentment towards for so long. It was something that he had to do, his responsibility, for the whole thing was partially of his own creation, as unintended as his own hand in it had been. It wasn't right to leave it up to someone else to finish.

Bennett can see that Austin doesn't understand, and still likely wouldn't agree with him if Bennett somehow managed to explain it correctly. He carefully peels away the hand Austin was using to keep a gentle grip on his bicep, gives it a slight squeeze before he pulls away.

He strides purposefully towards the rest of the group, mind already clicking into gear, organising.

They have a Decathlon to win.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never meant to leave this story alone for so long. Most of this chapter was written around nine months ago, but then some things happened in my personal life that made updating very difficult, more emotionally than timewise. I don't want to get into details here, since if any of you even remember what this story is about by now you're probably just here to read it. If you're desperately curious, you can ask me on the author blog I keep to go with this story on tumblr, which is 'starburst-sunbeam'. I'm really sorry for the long wait, but we're almost done. There should only be 1-2 more chapters and possibly an epilogue left, so we're in the home stretch, which is partially why I'm sorry for leaving the story when I did. At this point I'm really just hoping to push through and get it finished, since it has been difficult to get back into a project I've left for so long.
> 
> I would've liked for this chapter to be longer, but I've struggled with it for so long that I think it's best just to let it rest for now, since the only things I can think of adding would be filler, since most of the upcoming plot has to go together in the next chapter instead of taking an earlier scene and transplanting it into this chapter.
> 
> Thank you for your patience, guys.

Things are quiet leading up to the Decathlon. Bennett, Austin, Luc and Cooper are all preparing and studying for the SATs they'll take not long after, and Jasmine's getting ready for graduation.

They see Peter around, but whenever he catches sight of them, his eyes duck away and he hurries off. Bennett wishes he could say the saddened drop in his chest in from empathy, but he knows its from pity. Whatever he said, Peter was - maybe still is - his friend.

Jasmine has no such qualms. Bennett watches Peter try to talk to her separately once, maybe about graduation or a shared final, since they're the only two seniors among the group of them. Jasmine jerks away before he can touch her, bares her teeth at him in an almost feral snarl. Peter backs away quickly, and he doesn't try again. When Jasmine gets to them, the rest of the group having missed the exchange, Bennett can see her hands shaking as she puts the combination into her lock, the furious look on her face but the sheen of wetness to her eyes.

He doesn't mention it. Jasmine knows he saw if she wants to talk about it.

Alison does mention Peter from time to time, but never favourably, stating "good riddance." The mean twist to her mouth is only highlighted by the sheen of her lip gloss, and Bennett catches the look on Bridget's face that Alison seems blind to, the hurt, the disappointment, the loneliness in her eyes.

"Are you alright?" he whispers to her when they're standing alone.

"I feel like she's not the girl I started dating," Bridget says, voice dropped even though it's only the two of them. "I feel like I don't know her anymore."

Bennett can feel his eyebrows crease with concern. "Bridget..."

Bridget looks close to overflowing, angry and upset. "You know before we got together she didn't get how I could be bi? Even after explaining I'm not sure she believes me, if she's not just placating me."

"Hey, hey," Bennett says. He puts a tentative arm around her shoulders, and when she crumples into his hold, burying her face in his chest, tightens his grip to a firmer hold. "You're right, those are valid concerns. But it sounds like you've been keeping them to yourself because you're scared of seeming irrational, or of always needing to address things you feel shouldn't be a big deal. If they bother you, Bridget, they're important. Is it just coming up because of... because of Peter?"

Bridget sniffles, then nods. "I don't understand why you did that."

Bennett tightens his arms around her. "He's our friend, but he wasn't acting like it. I'm not trying to cast him out, Bridget, I'm telling him to be better, because we all deserve it." He pulls back to meet her eyes, and she hastily wipes them. He realises, startled, that's he's grown, that he's closer to her height than he used to be, but then pushes that aside to focus on what's at hand. "I know you care about Peter, and that's a good thing. You should never be ashamed of being sensitive, or feel like you care too much. The bad thing is people will take advantage of you for it, because they know you'll forgive them." He squeezes her arms where he's got a hold on them. "Establish boundaries, and you can enjoy being with people without feeling like you're not allowed to say when you're hurt."

Bridget just looks at him for a long time, long enough that Bennett starts to feel uncomfortable. Then she cracks a tentative smile. "You're really thoughtful, has anyone ever told you that?"

Bennett blinks, releasing his hold on her, feeling off balance for a reason he can't name. "Not really. Sometimes about school work, but not about people."

Bridget reaches out and squeezes his hand companionably. "You've always cared about people. You've just gotten better at sharing it."

Bennett doesn't respond, surprised. Bridget just flashes him a smile and disappears off to class.

* * *

 

Bennett still spends days over at the Haroldes' house, but he's more mindful, spaces out the occasions he goes as opposed to those he doesn't. Austin seems to notice, frowns when Bennett backs away but never pushes. Bennett always feels vaguely guilty and somewhat belittled whenever Austin does this, like Austin's treating him like a spooked animal he's afraid will bolt if he presses his advance too fast.

Bennett's mother knows, of course, though she's never thrilled about it. She still doesn't like Austin much, frowned down at her gin on the rocks and swirled the liquid in the the glass the only time Bennett ever tried to approach her about it. Bennett doesn't want to make her dislike Austin more, figures he needed time to warm up to him so his mother probably does as well. He tries not to feel like that's a stark lie.

Bennett goes over today when Austin asks, thinks over the times he's gone and hasn't and makes a patchwork calendar in is head. He thinks he's okay. Austin smiles at him when he agrees, but it's not full bodied, more like half an edge pulled up, Austin happy in a washed out way. They have to watch Jennifer when they first get back, but then Austin's mom comes home and shoos them upstairs so they can "have time alone."

"You're happy with me, aren't you?" Austin asks suddenly, closing his bedroom door behind them.

Bennett looks at him in bewilderment. "I wouldn't be with you if you made me unhappy."

Austin shakes his head. "But that's the thing, isn't it? You back away so easily. I feel like you're running from me half the time."

Bennett tries to hide his wince. "That's not... It's not..."

"If that's not it, then what is it?"

Bennett's silent, thinking. Austin has a habit of this, of throwing him straight into the path of self reflection, forcing him to confront himself. Bennett doesn't think he's any more comfortable with it now than he was then, though he's come to terms with the fact that Austin usually has a point. "I get overwhelmed easily, by us, by myself, by my feelings. You're the only part of that I can run from."

Austin closes in on him, cups one of Bennett's cheeks in his hand. "I don't want you to feel like you can't be around me."

Bennett lays his own hand overtop of Austin's. "I haven't felt that way in a long while."

Austin leans down to kiss him, gentle, a ghost of his lips over Bennett's. Bennett doesn't want to break the moment, the way he feels like bursting open, overwhelmed. He can't tell if that's a good feeling. He waits, patience rewarded when Austin kisses him more forcefully by his own will.

Austin's here. Austin's always been here, has been for so long, wanted Bennett even before he liked him, fought with him and made Bennett fight with himself. He's argued with him and protected him and Bennett - Bennett -

"I love you," Bennett murmurs, afraid to say the words aloud, stamp them permanently into the air between them.

Austin pulls back so fast he almost falls backward, and Bennett feels a pulse of panic in his chest as he reaches for Austin's sleeve to steady him. Austin stares at him for a moment, and then inexplicably, he starts laughing.

"I  _never_ ," he says, "thought you would be the one to say that first."

Bennett's still reeling from the way Austin ripped himself away. "Does that mean you don't...?"

Austin snorts, but more out of disbelief than amusement, like he can't believe Bennett can't see something he sees clearly. "Of course I love you. I just didn't think you were ready to hear it, so I didn't say it."

Bennett deflates in relief.

Austin shakes his head. "I don't know why you'd think I wasn't."

"You thought I wasn't even happy with you," Bennett counters, taking a tentative step forward to take Austin's hand where its resting at his side. Austin returns his grip, and Bennett feels the vice around his heart and lungs relax.

"So much of you is stuck up here," Austin says, lightly tapping Bennett's temple, "it's hard to tell what you really want or think sometimes."

Bennett raises an eyebrow. "You seemed to have no problem spotting my insecurities and pulling them apart in front of me before we got together."

Austin winces. "Yeah, I... That was me being a massive asshole. I guess you're right. It's not that I can't read you so much as it is that I get scared, and I doubt myself." Austin's mouth dips contemplatively, and he cards the hand he'd left by Bennett's ear through his hair. "I'm not new to relationships, but I guess I'm new to wanting them to last, to seeing it and the person I'm with as something more than fun and a way to pass the time."

Bennett circles his thumb over the back of Austin's hand. "I know." He does. Bennett suffocates sometimes, thinking of how his mother's the only real family he has left, that he could lose her in one swift move, one admission. It's harder for him to voice his fears than it is for Austin, it seems.

Austin steps closer, cups Bennett's head, dips down and puts his mouth next to Bennett's ear, breath ghosting over him, as light a brush as silk. Bennett shivers, goosebumps rising from the sensation. "I love you," Austin whispers, a confession, a promise.

Bennett's breath hitches, and then he feels embarrassed at his reaction, moves to pull away. Austin winds an arm around his waist, gentle but firm, keeping him anchored. "I'm in love with you."

Bennett closes his eyes, somehow overwhelmed. Austin pulls back, cradles Bennett's face and sweeps his thumbs over his cheekbones. He presses a kiss to each, almost reverent, like Bennett's a masterpiece, the sculpted work of a masterful artist, instead of a boy of blood and bone and skin, breakable, fallible, flawed.

Austin continues to speak, "You are brilliant, diligent." He kisses Bennett's forehead. "Beautiful." Drags his lips from one side of his jaw to the other. "Tenacious, observant." His nose. "Loyal." He lightly ghosts his lips over Bennett's, murmurs, "passionate," and then presses his kiss there more firmly.

They linger a moment, a chaste press of lips, before Austin pulls away, resting his forehead against Bennett's. "And I love you, all of you, the good and the great and the bad, the way you've built yourself up all the way to the foundation of who you are. I'm not afraid of that, I'm not shy of saying it."

Bennett presses his face into Austin's chest, wraps his arms around him. He can feel his eyes spilling overwhelmed tears onto the cotton of Austin's shirt, is sure Austin can too, but Austin just holds him, presses a kiss to the top of his head.

"You're more than I deserve," Bennett murmurs, something he's been afraid of voicing, fearing that saying the words aloud will cause the universe to realise its truth, plot them on a course that will take Austin away from him. He's selfish, in the end.

Austin's arms tighten around him. "That's not true," he says fiercely, and Bennett doesn't argue, not because of the words, but because of how Austin speaks them.

They stay there, just drawing in each other's presence, enjoying the other's company, their touch.

"I think about it, sometimes," Austin says, voice breaking the gently cresting silence, "what I might be like if I'd never somehow been drawn to you. How I would have reacted if I'd known then what I'd feel for you now."

Bennett reflects on that. "If I tried to tell myself half a year ago what's true now, I wouldn't believe it. Even then, I'd be cautious, superstitious, and I'd avoid you with everything I had."

Bennett can feel Austin smile into his hair. "I can only think of a few times you avoided me."

Bennett shrugs, somewhat shamefaced thinking of his irrational and purely emotional reaction to Austin initially. "I didn't like being around you, but I was too proud to avoid you, too convinced of my own moral supremacy, too eager to pick a fight with you to try to ease the boiling in my blood."

Austin laughs. "I can see that. I just liked picking and picking at you, like a science experiment. I get nearly sick thinking about it now, how I got such satisfaction out of making you squirm, testing you and being delighted when you didn't do what I expected. I did that for a long time before you, too - opening people up and looking at them under the microscope, poking at the tender parts and trying to incite reactions. I don't know why."

Bennett knows, somehow. "You were always so good at everything, so smart, so observant. I can't imagine it took long for you to get bored, to make a game of it. I doubt anyone realised what you were doing at first, could tell you it was wrong, and by the time you'd learnt to systematically take apart people, you'd already gotten the thrill of it, figured you knew more than any teacher or moral figure could."

Austin winces, tries to suppress the motion. "I can't claim anything about the early stuff, I just started poking at people without knowing why, but as for later, why I kept continuing on, I'm sure you're right. I felt that exact way."

"You weren't the only one who was used to being right, who let yourself think it made you better than others around you. I'm not sure who was worse about it."

"What's better, the fire that looks inviting but burns your fingers when you go to warm it, or the ice you know will nip your fingers with its cold in only one touch?" Austin murmurs, contemplative. Bennett knows its more to himself than a question he's posing to Bennett in search of answer. The answer is implied in the question: one signals danger and allows avoidance, the other beckons closer to the danger.

They hold each other, Bennett's head tucked into Austin's chin, breathing even, listening and feeling the movement of Austin's steady breath, the beating of his heart. It's calming, rhythmic.

Eventually they draw apart at the same time, like some unspoken signal.

Austin looks at Bennett, eyes raking over his face. "I've changed so much, so quickly. I get scared of the idea that you could disappear from my life as quickly as you came into it."

Bennett takes Austin by the wrist, cradling his hand, his grip a bit too tight and edged with a strain of emotion touched by desperation. "Not without a fight."

* * *

 

When Bennett gets home, he nearly trips over himself when he reaches the kitchen. Sitting at one of the stools to their kitchen's peninsula is his mother, reading quietly. She doesn't look up at him but Bennett's certain she knows he's there all the same.

"You're home early," Bennett says, at a loss of anything else to say beyond stating the obvious.

"And you're late," his mother replies, and Bennett nearly flinches, but there's no reproach in her tone, merely a casual observation of fact. She closes her novel and places it on the countertop, turning on the stool to face him.

"It's not like I clock in and out here." His tone is defensive, and he immediately wishes he could take it back, reply more politely.

His mother doesn't blink. "I'm aware." She taps the manicured nails of one hand on the counter. "You don't have to hide your friends from me, you know."

Bennett, with a start, realises his mother isn't angry. She's wanting to close the gap between them, but is too awkward to know how, especially with how distant they've been for a long time. "I know," he says, cautious.

His mother nods. "Your father called."

Bennett stares. He doesn't - He has no reaction to that. Did he sidestep into an alternate universe for a moment? "Did he?" He tries to keep his tone neutral, but can't help an edge creeping in.

"He wanted to talk with you. I dont know what about." His mother sounds displeased, and somewhat disgusted at the idea of his father. Bennett doesn't know if that's on his behalf or on her own.

"Oh. Thanks for telling me?"

His mother turns and picks up her book. Conversation over, then.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bennett's silent for a minute. "Why? Why do this? Why me?"
> 
> If this were a movie, Brian would smirk or smile like a villain. Instead, his face is perfectly smooth and passive. To him, this a business deal. "Because you're my biggest threat. And while I'd like to win fairly, I'd rather win in a way outside of the rules than not at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually know anything about how the Scholastic Decathlon works. Most of my knowledge comes from High School Musical. Therefore all of this is made up to suit the story, despite the event itself being real. I also originally planned this years ago when I cared far less about details and as the lynchpin it's too late to change now.
> 
> I can't believe it, but this is the final chapter. I've been working on this story for 3-4 years, and have since graduated high school, started university, taken a break from university, began and ended two serious relationships, and gone through a lot of highs and lows. When I started this story, my update schedule was a lot better, as I was a lot more inspired and a lot less burdened with stuff in my life outside of my story. Near the beginning of this story, I started going through some mental health struggles, which strongly affected my update schedule. I want to thank everyone that has stuck with me all the way to the end, whether you were here from the beginning or only found this after it was completed, over 100k later. This is by far the longest writing project I have ever completed. 
> 
> I'm going to write an epilogue for this, so it's not quite over yet. I'm also considering a sequel that follows Bridget in university, likely with a polyamorous relationship, but I'd need to plan for that first, and after working largely just on this story for the better part of three years I'd really like to take a break from these guys at least for a little while. I don't know what I'll write next, but I have a lot of ideas. Whether queer or straight, real life setting or fantasy, I can't wait to do something new. I hope some of you will follow me to the next project. Hopefully it won't take quite so long to complete. 
> 
> This story requires some really heavy edits, so hopefully I have the drive to get around to that, though I'm definitely leaving it to sit for a while before I do that. There's some plot holes (at one point Austin's shirt changes from a cotton t-shirt to a henley mid scene), the beginning is much weaker than the ending as my writing has improved over the course of the story, I need to firmly decide if the setting is Canadian or American and have the details reflect that, flesh out the sideplots and side characters more (Luc and Cooper's story is especially rushed for my liking, and Brian needs more build up), tweak some things that aren't technically plot holes but are confusing (for example, both Bennett's father and his enemy here are named Brian), fix typos and grammatical mistakes, strengthen the foreshadowing and continuity, fix the debate and Scholastic details so they're actually accurate, and a LOT more. Despite all it's mistakes though, I am still proud that I managed to complete a story this long. This is after all just a rough draft I have been posting as I go with no editing on it but my own.
> 
> Any comments, whether to help with editing or just to say you made it this far, are always greatly appreciated. If you want details on these characters, I am always more than happy to talk about them on my tumblr, starburst-sunbeam.

As the club is lined up to board the busses to the Decathlon, Bennett notices Bridget shaking with nerves. Alison tries to comfort her briefly, but can't seem to bring down her nerves, so bounces between people in conversation while rotating back to Bridget regularly.

Bennett comes up to Bridget's side, placing a gentle hand on her arm. She startles at first, but then calms when she sees its him.

"It'll be okay," Bennett says, lowering his voice, keeping it even in tone.

"You don't know that."

"I do," Bennett says. "I don't know if we'll win or not. I don't know where we'll place. But it'll be okay. We'll all be okay."

Bridget glances back at Alison, laughing about something with Cooper, before turning back to Bennett. She takes a deep breath and then exhales it slowly. "Okay. I- Okay. I trust you, if not my own anxieties sometimes."

Bennett squeezes her arm, unspeakably touched by her words, her gesture, her trust. "I won't let you down," he says, more to himself than to her.

Bridget smiles at him, the expression trembling on her face, and then they're all called to board the bus and she climbs up ahead of him.

Bennett feels a hand come to rest on his lower back. Maybe its a bit dumb, but he's proud of himself for not even flinching, knowing who it is. "Everything okay?" Austin leans in to breathe the question into his ear.

Bennett turns, bumping his nose into Austin's. It's partially purposeful, some contact and affection to ground him without explicit PDA. "Yeah, everything's okay. I've got it handled."

Austin slides his hand over to squeeze Bennett's hip. "Of that I had no doubt."

* * *

 

Even though this is the third year Bennett's been to the Decathlon, he still feels amazement when he steps into the building, the ceiling arching high above his head, students crammed into the room so the whole place is filled with the sound of reverberating chatter. He stops for just a moment, closing his eyes, breathing it in. Normally he hates crowds, but this, this is what he loves, the rush of competition, of putting everything he can into it. It's not all he loves anymore, but it's still meaningful to him.

Mr. Oaken gestures their group forward, and they go through the process of registering and getting set up before he shoos them off. "Go eat and get some lunch, relax so you dont psych yourself out too much."

The whole club starts to talk amongst themselves, drifting off together to find somewhere to eat. Bennett freezes partway, and Austin notices, stopping with him and looking at him expectantly.

"I forgot my jacket on the bus," Bennett groans. "I'll catch up to you guys, okay?"

"You sure?" Austin asks, but he's already taken a few steps forward.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Bus isn't far and I need to grab it before it goes since it's got the school name on it and everything."

Austin waves at him and starts jogging to catch up to the others. Bennett backtracks to the bus that took them all here.

His jacket isnt hard to find, fallen onto the floor beneath the seat he was using. It wouldn't be anything notable at all, except for when he's exiting the bus.

Bennett quickly descends the steps, just leaving the parking lot when he runs into someone, just stopping short of actually running  _into_  them. "Hello?" he says, bewildered.

"There you are," Brian Harding, genius student of Jefferson High says. "I've been looking for you all afternoon, Bennett Cole. Or is it Netter?"

Bennett can feel his anxiety locking him up, but simmering just below that is anger, cautious but there, almost like it senses it'll have a reason to rise up soon. He balls his fists, pressing his nails into his palms. "What do you want, Harding?"

"Ooh, surnames," Brian smirks. "How  _Harry Potter_  of you." He kicks off the tree he'd been leaning off, the shade and cover the only reason Bennett hadn't spotted him earlier. His brown hair looks dark like mud in the shadow, his eyes nearly black instead of golden hazel. "I have a proposition for you."

"I'm not interested in anything with you," Bennett bites out, teeth clenching, the implied sexual snub purposeful.

"Oh, I know that," Brian says, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolding it. "I mean, it's obvious who you're really interested in, isn't it?" He turns the paper, showing the side with the print and image to Bennett.

The paper is a copy of the front page Emery printed of Bennett and Austin's kiss in the hallway. Bennett can feel his stomach drop, his skin going clammy and his heart hammering. He plays it off. "That's public already. Was that all you had?"

"Of course not." Brian waves his hand dismissively. "Do you really think I made dean's list with little tricks like that? This might throw you off your game, but I have something better."

"Oh really?" Bennett's teeth are clenched.

"I'm guessing," Brian folds the paper up again, "that your parents don't know about this yet?"

Bennett doesn't respond, mind churning to think of a response, a solution, but he feels too panicked to focus. His silence is damning enough, an answer on its own.

Brian pushes the folded paper back into his pocket. "I deduced as much. Here's my proposition for you: drop out of the competition, and I won't share this to your parents. How's that?"

Bennett clenched hands are shaking. "There's more than just me to the team, you know."

"Yes, but without the spine, the body can't hold itself upright. It struggles to walk, it struggles to feel without the central nervous system connecting itself through the spine. How will they win, cope, without you, not only one of if not their most intelligent and useful members, but their leader, their support system?" Brian shrugs. "I imagine not well."

"You can't possibly know how to contact them."

Brian pulls out another paper, waving it in front of Bennett, showing his mother and father's emails and phone numbers. He'd prepared for that exact question. He tucks it away again, waiting Bennett out.

Bennett's silent for a minute. "Why? Why do this? Why me?"

If this were a movie, Brian would smirk or smile like a villain. Instead, his face is perfectly smooth and passive. To him, this a business deal. "Because you're my biggest threat. And while I'd like to win fairly, I'd rather win in a way outside of the rules than not at all."

"I could report you."

"You know it wouldn't stop me."

Bennett gazes impassively at him. Slowly, his hands relax, falling loose at his sides.

This is beyond him.

"Go ahead," Bennett says, surprising Brian for the first time in this conversation. "Show that to my parents. It tells me more about you than it does anything else. We'll win anyway. And we'll do it with my help. I'm the leader, and I made a promise."

Brian looks at him, expression unreadable, and Bennett's about to break the silence before Brian does it himself. He shrugs, but Bennett can read his displeasure all the same. "Suit yourself. It's your funeral."

"Actually," Bennett says. "It's yours."

Austin notices right away that something's happened when Bennett arrives at the group. "What's wrong?"

Bennett's good humour and excitement has faded away, nothing but steel determination in its place. His heart isn't ice, but his expression might as well be. "Nothing."

"Then why do you look like you're going to war?" Allison asks, sipping on the straw of her drink.

Bennett shrugs. "Psyched myself out, I guess. It happens."

"Mr. Oaken just warned us not to do that." Allison rolls her eyes.

"You know me. I take this stuff too seriously."

"You're telling me," Allison laughs. Jasmine's watching Bennett suspiciously from across the table as he slides in to sit next to Austin, but she's not saying anything. Her trust in his ability to handle things himself and that he'll come to her when he needs her help has improved greatly in the last few months. He hopes he isn't ruining it now. He hopes he deserves her trust.

Austin throws his arm over Bennett's shoulders, leaning in to speak in his ear, voice lowered so only Bennett can hear. "We'll be okay. I know you want to win, and we've got a good shot, but even if we don't, it'll be okay. We'll be okay."

Bennett gives Austin a smile, and despite the way he feels shaken up inside, his expression doesn't waver, his hands don't sweat or tremor. He looks calm. The eye of a hurricane.

Austin takes his silent reply at face value. Bennett feels a bit sick, wondering when he became such a good liar he could do it without speaking a single word at all.

* * *

 

They all compete in the categories they signed up for, the extended weekend passing in a blur of science and math and history. Last is the debate. It's all of them at the podiums, but Bennett, Austin, Luc and Cooper are pulling most of the weight.

They make it to the final round. Bennett didn't expect any less.

Bennett's palms are sweating as they wait behind the curtain to step onto the stage. His hands are trembling slightly, and he clasps them so tightly behind his back he's sure the skin must be bone white.

Either no one else notices as they're too focused on themselves, or they brush his behaviour off as regular nerves. Good.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Showtime.

The group of them steps out onto the stage, and Bennett's focus narrows onto Brian across the stage. His fingers tremble, but he doesn't let his expression waver. Brian looks discomforted. If Bennett were a betting man, he'd guess that Brian thought he'd duck out at the last minute, after trying to call his bluff.

Bennett's not bluffing. He's here anyway.

Bennett raises an eyebrow at him. He can see Brian's fingers gripping his podium turn white.

Bennett looks out over the crowd, mostly on impulse, his vision impeded by the stage lights, and he sees Peter, of all people, in the middle of the crowd. He almost stumbles in surprise, sure he must be seeing wrong through the haze of the spotlights, but it's definitely Peter. Peter shakes his head at him, making a cutting motion with his hands, trying to signal Bennett not to draw attention to him. Bennett already knows how disastrous that would be to Jasmine's performance, and has no intentions to.

He's surprised but pleased to see him. Maybe Peter has grown some, after all.

He smooths out his stride, and makes it to his podium, Austin squeezes his hip as he sidles in to stand next to him. Bennett guesses that Austin thought his stumble was out of nerves. He's not about to correct him.

The bell tolls, and they're off.

They go the traditional route: opening statements, main debate, and cross analysis. The two teams volley arguments back and forth so fast it's like a tennis game, would be as quick as lightning if they could only speak that quickly. Bennett has no idea who's winning, which is uncomfortable and unusual.

He shouldn't be surprised, though. They're the two best teams in the Decathlon.

After it's all over, each team sits huddled together, waiting for the results. The crowd is a murmur as they chat to each other, but the two groups of competing schools on stage are totally silent.

They've won or lost a number of categories already, but this one feels especially important. Maybe because it's the last. Maybe because of what Bennett sacrificed to be here.

A bell tolls. "We have the results," the speaker calls.

The room rustles as people return to their seats before settling into expectant silence.

"Though close, the winners are... the Quad Cities High Scholastic Club!" he class, gesturing to them.

Cooper whoops in delight. Luc is hugging him, talking in English so quickly it might as well be French. Allison is beaming, hands clasped. Bridget is grinning, uncharacteristically wide. Jasmine looks satisfied. Austin's eyes are shining with joy.

Bennett should be ecstatic. Mostly, he's just relieved that it's over.

They're ushered off the stage, and the group of them are dismissed by a fondly amused Mr. Oaken back to their rooms. "Go celebrate," he says, "I couldn't corral you right now if I tried."

Most of them are laughing and hugging each other as they head up the stairs to the rooms they booked at the hotel, Bennett hanging back.

"To my and Jasmine's room!" Allison declares. There are scattered agreements.

Bennett hesitates. Austin stops with him, looking at him. The grin slides off his face. "Are you okay?"

Bennett nods. "Yeah. I just- I have to call my mom."

"You don't have to if you're dreading it." Austin's frowning.

"I really do." Bennett backs away. He should turn away, but he can't look away from Austin. Doesn't want to, just yet. He isn't sure if he'll have a limited amount of time with him left. He's underage. It's not in his hands.

Austin looks troubled. "Meet us after?"

"Of course." Bennett takes one last desperate sweep of Austin with his eyes before he tears himself away. "See you soon."

After locking the door to the room Bennett shares with Luc behind him, he slides to the floor. His breath is coming too fast. His hands feel shaky, and his heartbeat is too fast. He's terrified, but in a different way than usual, less of a deep scare and more shaky fear.

He pulls his legs up, puts his head between his knees. It feels difficult to breathe. He starts to cry, breath leaving him in shuddering sobs. He doesn't want to do this. He can't do this.

Someone knocks on the door behind his back, and he's so startled that his breathing catches and then evens out, deeper than before.

"Ben?" It's Jasmine. "Austin and I are here. I swiped Luc's card. I'm coming in, okay?"

Bennett turns quickly, bracing both hands on the door. "Don't," he says, panicked.

Jasmine pauses. "Why not?" Her voice is cautious.

"I don't- I can't-" The panic is enclosing again.

Bennett hears the key card slide through the lock, and it must scan correctly because then there's pressure against his palms. He pulls back, not wanting to get crushed between the door and the wall.

"Oh, Ben." It's Jasmine again. He's never heard her voice so heartbreakingly soft. He turns his face into his bicep, ashamed of his tear streaked face.

Austin doesn't say anything, but Bennett recognises the feel of his arms enclosing him. Bennett can't help the sob that bubbles out of him, though he tries to hide it. Austin cradles the back of his head with a broad hand, pulling his face into his shoulder.

"What happened?" Austin asks. It's quiet, not a hint of accusation. "Was it your mother?"

"No, I- I-" Bennett takes a deep breath. "I couldn't even call her."

"Then what's wrong? We won." Jasmine's hand touches his shoulder, trying to support him without intruding into his space too far and making him worse. She knows him well. Her statement is curious, not judgemental of his state.

Bennett pulls away. Austin lets him, but moves his hands to Bennett's waist, holding him steady. He looks Austin and Jasmine in the eye in turn. "Brian Harding."

They both look confused. "What does he have to do with this?" Jasmine asks.

"He blackmailed me, hoping I'd drop out of the competition," Bennett says. Jasmine and Austin exchange a glance Bennett can't decipher. "He threatened to show Emery's article to my parents if I didn't."

He doesn't have to tell them which article. Jasmine hisses through her teeth. "That son of a bitch."

Austin's hands tighten on him. "So you were going to call your mom so you could tell her first?"

Bennett nods. "I couldn't do it." He laughs humourlessly. "I couldn't even make a phone call."

"Don't talk about my best friend that way," Jasmine threatens.

Bennett can't help the quirk at the corner of his mouth at that.

"Do you still want to call her?" Austin asks.

"I have to," Bennett says.

"Ben." Austin's voice is gentle.

"She has to hear it from me." Bennett is firm about this. He gets up, going to his backpack to fetch his phone that he couldn't carry onto the competition stage with him.

As soon as he turns it on, it starts to ring. His mother's name is on the screen.

Jasmine's hand lands on his shoulder. "We're right here if you want us to stay," she assures. Bennett reaches out, clasping her hand. His grip is too tight, but she doesn't complain.

Austin places a hand on his hip and another on his lower back, anchoring. Bennett takes a deep breath, and hits answer.

"Yuuto," his mother starts, and Austin looks confused, but Jasmine has heard his Japanese name before and her expression stays smooth and determined, "do you know of a Brian Harding?" She's speaking Japanese.

 _Unfortunately_. "Yes." His voice is clipped.

"Do you know an Emery Alfaro?"

"Yes."

"Do you know," his mother's voice is dangerously even, "an Austin Haroldes?"

Bennett closes his eyes. "Yes."

The line is silent.

Bennett leaves it for over a minute, afraid, before he can't help but ask, "Would you prefer if I didn't come home?"

"You must come home." His mother sounds angry. He can't remember the last time she sounded angry. "I don't like this, but you are coming home."

Bennett can't help his breath of relief. "Yes, mother."

"We will be speaking about... this."

"Yes, mother."

She's quiet again for a long time, and Bennett would check the connection if he didn't know better. "You are my son," she says finally. It's not a declaration of love, but it's more than Bennett expected. "Come home." She hangs up.

He pulls the phone away from his ear, thrown, before tossing it onto his bed.

Austin's hands are so tight on his hips Bennett has a feeling they're going to bruise. "What did she say?"

"To come home," Bennett says. He stares at his hands, brow furrowed in thought. Maybe... maybe she doesn't hate him?

Austin doesn't force more from him on it. "Do you want to call your dad?"

"No, I don't care what he thinks." To his surprise, Bennett realises it's the truth.

There's a knock at the door, so soft it could almost be missed, and they all turn to look in its direction. Jasmine pulls away and goes to get it.

It's Bridget. She sees Austin and Bennett huddled together, Jasmine standing defensively in front of the door, and takes it in but doesn't say a word. Bennett's never been more grateful. "May I come in?"

Jasmine looks like she's going to turn Bridget away, but Bennett steps out of Austin's hold smoothly. "Of course." He sounds smooth and at ease, but he's sure there are still tear marks on his face.

Bridget edges around Jasmine into the room. If it throws her, she doesn't show it. "Daniel let me download a bunch of his movies," she says, mentioning her older brother. "I thought we could watch some?"

"I'd like that," Bennett tells her honestly.

* * *

It's hours later, after Austin and Jasmine have both fallen asleep, that Bennett tells Bridget the whole story. He tells her more details than Austin and Jasmine, knowing she won't go after Brian for it. She listens attentively and doesn't interrupt.

She's quiet for a while after. "You didn't have to do that for us."

"Yes," he says quietly, "I did. But maybe for myself, not for all of you."

Bridget smiles at him. She takes his hands in hers. "Then I'm proud of you for it."

Bennett can't help but smile back. Bridget never ceases to astound him with her seemingly endless kindness and acceptance. Vulnerability has always come to her much easier than it has to Bennett. "I am too."

They talk quietly for a few more hours, not wanting to wake Jasmine and Austin. "How are things with Allison?" he asks.

"I think I'm going to break up with her," Bridget says. Bennett turns to look at her in surprise.

"Really?"

"She doesn't really 'get' my bisexuality," Bridget admits. "I think I'm too sensitive for her brash nature too." She looks at Bennett. "Do you think it's possible to love someone and not be right for each other? Have I just not tried hard enough?"

"Bridget," Bennett takes one of her hands, "if you couldn't find enough patience to keep trying, then there is nothing left, trust me." Bridget's smile is thin, but pleased. "You know in your heart what's right. It's just telling the difference between what is your heart and what is your brain."

Bridget laughs, then quiets, contemplative. "I think I have an anxiety disorder. I've been looking into therapy."

Bennett squeezes her hand. "I think that's a good idea."

Bridget squeezes his hand back. "Thank you for being here, Ben."

He puts his arm around her, pulling her into a hug. "I promise I'll be here if you need it."

Bridget doesn't hesitate when she hugs him back. "I know."

When the group of them exits the bus, his mother is waiting outside of her car, leaning against the door. Her expression gives nothing away, and her eyes are covered by sunglasses.

"Wish me luck," Bennett says. Luc, Cooper, and Allison all looked confused, but Jasmine, Bridget and Austin all give him a brief but bracing touch on the arm as they pass him by.

Crossing the parking lot feeling like crossing trenches.

His mother's face tells him nothing. "Get in," she says.

Bennett climbs into the passenger seat. His mother rounds the car and starts it. They sit in silence for a long time. Bennett grips his thighs, staring at his lap, tense all over.

"You are my son," his mother says, and Bennett turns to look at her, but she's staring out the windshield. Her grip on the steering wheel is so tight her knuckles stand out. "I don't like this. I don't like that boy. But you are my son, and when you were born, I made a promise to you that I would love you." She turns to look at him, sliding her sunglasses onto her forehead with one hand. "I stand by that promise."

Bennett has never felt a greater relief in his life. He tries to keep his eyes from getting wet, but his body is beyond his mind's control. "Mom."

"I need to meet this boy as your boyfriend." She gets the last word out, though it seems difficult. "If you father discards you for this, he is showing exactly why I divorced him."

Bennett gives a wet laugh. "I thought you'd hate me."

"This isn't easy for me," his mother admits. "But I know you. If you could have chosen anything but this, you would have. And so I must love you despite it. I don't pretend to understand, I don't pretend to like it, but there is one thing I am sure you. I am sure of you."

Bennett leans over, covering his face with his hands, curled towards his lap. "I never thought you'd accept me." His voice is choked.

"I don't yet, but I will try, even if it takes me the rest of my life." Her hand comes to rest on his back, warm and reassuring. Bennett can feel her manicured nails.

It takes five minutes before his mother pulls over, parking the car on the side of the road, and tugs him into a stilted and tense hug that he knows she is as earnest and meaningful about as she can be.

* * *

 

"My mother wants to meet you," Bennett tells Austin, right after Austin picks up the phone with a cautious 'Hello?'.

"Shit," Austin says, heartfelt and not a little scared. Bennett laughs.

Nothing is perfect. But for the first time in a long time, Bennett feels hopeful for a future where he can get everyone and everything he wants, so long as he's willing to work for it.


	36. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bennett watches the caps fly into the air, hears the cheers of his classmates around him, and dimly realises it's over.
> 
> He's graduated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the Epilogue, which means we're officially at the end. It's been a long journey.
> 
> This officially takes place a year and a few months after the last chapter.
> 
> The only reason this story is up at all or even got finished is because of two of my friends from high school that still encouraged and supported me to write this all the way until the end. You know who you are. Thank you.
> 
> And thank you, all of you, for reading.

Bennett watches the caps fly into the air, hears the cheers of his classmates around him, and dimly realises it's over.

He's graduated.

He turns to look to the row behind him where Luc and Cooper are in the D's (the irony is not lost on him), both of them hollering and grinning at each other over the heads of the people in between them. Behind them, up in the bleachers, are Bridget, Jasmine and his mother. His mother had refused to get along with Jasmine at first, disliking her Chinese heritage, but eventually they settled their differences. Now Jasmine's clicking at her phone camera, yammering instructions away to his mother who has a much more expensive camera that she's frowning out in concentration. Bridget doesn't have a camera, likely trusting the other two to get the pictures for her, and when she catches Bennett's eye she smiles brightly at him.

He turns away, looks out over the crowd of coloured robes to the H's. There, a bright head of golden hair reflecting the spotlights, easy to spot, Bennett finds him easily. He's looking back, like he was just waiting for Bennett to look his way, and he grins so wide it makes Bennett's heart hurt.

He shouts something at Bennett, and it's too loud to hear, but Bennett reads the words,  _We did it_.

Bennett can't help but smile back, the expression overtaking his face despite his resolve to take this seriously. It doesn't mean anything. He'd graduate without the robes and the ceremony. But it still makes him just the slightest bit giddy, caught in the tide of emotion.

They're ushered out of the auditorium, and Bennett's waiting out on the floor with Luc, Cooper and Austin when he gets tackled around the legs.

"Oof!" He grabs onto Austin for balance, who helps him stay up but laughs uproariously all the same.

"Hi, Gem," he says.

"Jenny," Bennett acknowledges.

"That took forever," Jennifer moans.

"Jennifer Penelope Haroldes!" Mrs - Katherine calls out. Her husband Bill is quick at her heels, though he looks more amused than anything. "Don't go running off like that.

"Hi, Mom," Austin says, amused.

"Don't encourage her, she could have hurt Ben without trying," Katherine scolds. "I'm proud of you, though."

"You say that like you wouldn't have kicked my ass if I didn't graduate."

"Language!"

Austin and his mom start to argue, if it counts as arguing when one is admonishing the other and that other keeps making quips. Everyone is watching the verbal volley, when Bennett's attention is dragged away by a squeeze around his legs.

"Don't go," Jennifer whispers, so quiet only he can hear. "Don't run away."

His heart nearly breaks in two. "I'm only going to university. If I didn't have to go to do what I want, I wouldn't."

"So don't go." She's speaking into the backs of his legs.

Bennett glances at everyone to make sure they're still distracted. He starts to pull away from Jennifer, and Austin glances at him but Bennett gestures to him to keep going and leads Jennifer away by the hand to a quiet corner.

He crouches so he can see her better, though this puts her taller than him. At thirteen she's hitting her growth spurt. She'll probably be taller than him when she's done. "IS this really about my going to university?"

Jennifer hugs herself. She's not usually so juvenile, though she does like to make fun of Austin and doesn't hold back there. But now that she's a teen she tries to act more grown up. It makes Bennett ache, and he wants to tell her not to be too eager to grow up so fast, but it wouldn't help. Haroldes are stubborn. He would know.

"I don't want Austin to go," she admits. There it is. Her eyes flick up to him. "Not that I want you to go, either, but..."

"I get it. He's your brother."

She nods. "I always say I don't want him around, but I don't know what I'm going to do when he's gone."

"Call, skype, text, and then hug the hell out of him when he's home. Survive. Thrive." He reaches out and ruffles her hair. She swats his hand away. "You've got it, Jenny."

"Of course," she scoffs. "It's him I'm worried about."

"Makes sense." He nods sagely. She flicks him.

"I am," she insists. "He'll be alone. You both will be."

"He'll be in a city full of people," he argues, but he knows what she means. He isn't looking forward to the long distance either.

"He's an idiot."

Bennett can't help but let out a surprised laugh at that one. "Can't argue with that. But he's looked after you for years. He can call home for help. He'll be in a dorm at first. He'll be okay."

"You promise you'll come home? Or that I can visit?"

He holds out a hand with a pinky extended. "Pinky-promise." Her eyes light up and she hooks her pinky into his before repeating the phrase.

They rejoin the group, and Austin is still winding his mother up, though when he sees Bennett and Jennifer slip in, he suddenly says, "You're right."

His mother stops mid sentence. "What?"

Austin shrugs. "You're right."

Bennett fights not to laugh.

Katherine looks disgruntled, but she waves him off when she sees Bennett's mom approaching and starts accosting her for pictures. His mom still looks startled by the strength of the Haroldes' personalities whenever she interacts with them, but she gamely starts showing Katherine all the pictures she's taken. She's done a lot better than Bennett expected, though she made Austin and Bennett sit in the living room whenever he was over and watched them like a hawk from the kitchen island for three months.

Bennett didn't have the heart to tell her that the Haroldes had offered to let him stay over multiple times and had even given Austin a box of condoms and lube for his birthday which had made Austin turn red when he recounted it. Not that they had done. Ah. That.

It was Bennett's decision. Austin had made it clear he was game if Bennett was, but there was zero pressure. Bennett had joked awkwardly about how he at least had to get over himself before the condoms expired, but Austin had ignored the poor attempt at covering his nerves and looked at him seriously.

"I'll still want to date you even if that's a never, Ben." His eyes had been intent, serious, and Bennett had squirmed feeling like Austin could see inside his chest into his heart.

He's pulled back into the moment by Jasmine pulling him into a hug, and awkwardly returns it (he's still getting used to giving out more physical affection). When he pulls away Bridget is there, arms open in invitation, so it's his choice, and he tugs her into a hug himself. After, she's smiling, looking pleased that he chose to hug her, though he's never turned her down. She's unfailing respectful of his boundaries, which makes it easier to accept.

"Congratulations," Bridget tells him.

"Your turn next year," he says.

"I think I'll pass out on the stage and they'll have to roll me off," she says, but she's grinning in good humour.

"How will the club cope without you?" Jasmine cries, purposefully dramatic, and he dutifully holds his arms out so she drape herself into them, pressing the back of a hand to a forehead. "How will they go on without  _four_  of their members next year?"

"We managed without you and Peter when you graduated last year," Bennett reminds her dryly.

Jasmine stands straight with a gasp. "Lies and slander!"

Austin snorts, coming from behind Bennett and laying an arm over his shoulder. It's his signature move. "Bennett is far more valuable to the club than any of us."

"Well, that goes without saying."

Bennett swats at them. Austin's expression doesn't even blink, and Jasmine dances out of the way.

The conversation envelops them all into one large group with the adults and siblings, and Bennett's listening to Luc talk excitedly about the semester he's taking to go explore his mother's home town, when Austin leans down and presses a kiss to his temple, catching his attention. "What was that with Gem?" he whispers into his ear.

Bennett turns his head slightly, keeping his eyes on Luc, trying not to catch too much attention. "She doesn't want us to go to university."

He can feel Austin's frown. "She didn't say anything about that at home."

"Of course not. You're her brother, she's not going to make herself look uncool."

Austin scoffs. "Teenagers."

Bennett rolls his eyes. "You're still a teenager. You're eighteen."

"And you're not  _even_  eighteen," Austin says, tightening his arm to bring Bennett closer. "I'm a veritable cradle robber."

"We're three months apart," Bennett comments, dry.

"Cradle robber," Austin insists, making Bennett huff on a laugh.

* * *

 

Bennett's nearly to the car with his mom, his eyes not on her as he's inspecting his graduation cap when his mother starts to speak.

"Austin," she starts, making his eyes snap back up, "can stay over, if he'd like." The words are stilted. It's still uncomfortable for her, but Bennett deeply appreciates every effort she makes, every time she makes herself choke out the word boyfriend or the name Austin.

"I'll ask him," he replies, ignoring the stiff nature to her words and posture. It's their unspoken agreement, that she tries, and he doesn't acknowledge how difficult it is for her sometimes.

He jogs over to the Haroldes van, and Austin looks at him in curiosity. He's already shrugged off his robe and has it draped over his arm, and Bennett's can't help but look at his arms in the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt with appreciation. Austin carefully places his cap and robe in the van and then turns to Bennett, hands on his waist. "What's up?"

"Mom says you can stay over if you'd like," Bennett relays, arching an eyebrow.

Austin's eyebrows both ascend towards his eyebrows in surprise. " _Your_  mom?"

"I know, I can hardly believe it. Quick, before she changes her mind."

Austin laughs at that. "I need to grab a bag from mine. I've only got this." He gestures down his body to his semi-formal clothes. He's wearing suspenders and no jacket. He should look ridiculous, but Bennett just thinks he looks good. He's so gone.

"I have some of your shirts, just wear one of those," Bennett insists.

Austin gives him a wry look. "Certain you're willing to give it back?"

Bennett crosses his arms. "Temporarily."

Austin snorts. "Mom -"

"I heard," Katherine interrupts, and makes a shooing motion at Austin. "Go, go."

Austin waves at her, drops a kiss on Jennifer's head that makes her exclaim in disgust, and then jogs over to Bennett. He drops an arm around his shoulders and leads him towards Bennett's mother's car. After a year of dating, Bennett's more than used to the gesture.

"Austin," Bennett's mother acknowledges with a nod.

"Ms. Shiragaki," Austin returns graciously. Bennett had advised him that there was no such thing as too formal with his mother, at least initially. Thankfully Austin had listened. It seemed to help his mother to like him better.

They all slide into the car, Bennett in the back with Austin instead of in the passenger seat. His mother just looks in the rearview mirror at them once. Bennett doesn't know what that look means, but he isn't too worried about it. If today was a difficult day for her with their relationship, she wouldn't have offered.

* * *

 

"Close the door," his mother says shortly when they get home. She doesn't take her jacket off or drop the car keys.

Bennett blinks, but doesn't hesitate beyond that, dragging Austin towards the staircase by a grip around his wrist. Austin pauses, flicking his eyes back and forth between Bennett and his mom with an insecure look in his eyes. Bennett raises his eyebrows and tugs more insistently. Austin finally gets with the program and follows him up the stairs and into his room, where Bennett closes the door.

"Your mom -"

"Is giving us permission and  _trying_  to be supportive," Bennett interrupts.

"Will skin me alive if I defile her son under her roof," Austin argues.

Bennett rolls his eyes. "She just told me to close the door, Austin. That seems like a pretty big 'go ahead' to me."

"Are you sure, because -"

" _Yes_ ," Bennett stresses. "She's my mom. I know her."

Austin shrugs, shoulders relaxing back into a straighter line.

Bennett catches a hand in Austin's dress shirt and reels him in. "Kiss me."

Austin gives that cooked grin Bennett fell for over a year ago, putting his hands over Bennett's hips. "Bossy," he says, but he leans down and kisses Bennett anyway.

Bennett puts one hand in Austin's hair, the other flat on his hip so he can push Austin backwards towards his bed as they kiss. He pulls away when the back of Austin's legs hit the bed, pushing Austin to sit. Austin does, grinning at him.

"Manhandling," he admonishes.

"You're into it," Bennett replies, climbing into Austin's lap.

"I'm into you," Austin mutters, distracted by putting his mouth on Bennett's throat. Bennett's heart still flutters, just a little, even after all this time. "What do you want?"

"You," Bennett says, and he slides the straps of Austin's suspenders off. Pity, those actually looked good on him.

Bennett doesn't need to see to know Austin rolls his eyes. "I know that.  _What_  do you want?"

Bennett hesitates, hands on the first button of Austin's shirt, brushing the skin of his throat. Austin stops, pulls away to look him in the eye.

"Don't do something because you feel like you should for this occasion," Austin tells him, sincere. His thumbs are sitting just below the waistband of Bennett's pants, and he swipes his hipbone with one in reassurance. Bennett shivers.

"I wasn't going to," Bennett denies, guilty.

Austin gives him a knowing look. "I'm telling you, Bennett. No pressure. I like anything with you. Do I need to get Allison to give you the 'Virginity is a Social Construct' talk again?"

Bennett grimaces, shaking his head. "Once was enough."

"Then what's up?" Austin presses, concerned. His brows are furrowed, worried, and it pulls at a string in Bennett's heart, giving a small pang.

"I want to do this for you," Bennett admits quietly. "I want to give you all of me. I want to be able to."

Austin's grip tightens. "Bennett, you, as you are, is more than enough. That IS all of you. Sex or no sex, or any kind. I like doing physical things, but it's always, always a gift, not an expectation."

"I know that," Bennett sighs, dropping his forehead to Austin's shoulder. "But I want to give you everything."

"I  _have_  all of you," Austin says. "I mean, I don't own you, of course. You're not mine, you're yours. But I already felt that you and I were connected, solid and long lasting, and been completely blown away by your presence for a while. You already gave me everything when you told me you loved me." Bennett pulls away from Austin's shoulder, and Austin cups his face, looking at Bennett earnestly. "That's all I wanted. You, your heart, not your body. You don't have to prove anything to me. Your words, your actions  _outside_  of our physical relationship have already more than proven that to me."

Bennett can feel his eyes getting hot with oncoming tears, and he squeezes his eyes shut and falls into a kiss with Austin. He tries to pour all of his feelings into it, his love, his gratefulness for Austin, his attraction and longing and trust. His eyes well with the force of his emotions, and he pulls away again, meaning to hide his face in Austin's shoulder, but Austin catches his cheek. Bennett blinks at him in surprise, feeling the wetness in one eye spill over as a tear.

"You're beautiful," Austin says, awed, reverent. He says it like Bennett is a work of art, like he's a wonder of the world that never ceases to amaze, a marvel of humanity that must have been shaped by the divine.

Bennett lets out a choked off laugh through his tears. "This long distance thing is going to suck."

Austin smiles. "We can do it."

"Oh, I know that," Bennett says, making Austin snort, "I just said it's going to suck."

"I love you," Austin says seriously, making Bennett blink. "I know none of my other relationships could really be considered serious, but I love you an incredible amount. I am in love with you. I know most high school relationships don't last, but I am determined to make us one of them."

Bennett leans in and kisses Austin again, quick but fervent. "Me too." The words don't seem enough, but he's not sure of what to add.

"So, you still want to do... something?" Austin suggests, waggling his eyebrows.

Bennett laughs. "Yes, yes I do. Not, you know. But, uh..."

"Yes?" Austin asks, arching an eyebrow.

Bennett can feel himself flush, even after all this time. "Fingers?"

Austin grins, wicked. "No complaints here."

Bennett snorts, about to make fun of Austin before Austin lifts him by a grip under his thighs and flips them, dropping Bennett onto the bed, who yelps in surprise. Austin laughs at him, and Bennett makes sure to give him the finger before kissing him anyway.

After, they lie naked and sweaty in Bennett's bed, pressed together since the space is slightly too narrow to fit the both of them, nearly grown men they are. Bennett's lying on his back, but Austin's on his side, one leg thrown over Bennett's.

"I'm going to miss you so much," Austin murmurs, playing with Bennett's hair.

"I haven't even left yet," Bennett protests, but he knows what Austin means.

"Still," Austin kisses him on top of his head. "I'm not looking forward to the distance."

Bennett lets his head flop to the side so he can look Austin in the eyes. "It's only a few years."

Austin frowns. "Four years for a degree is a long time, and that's only for mine."

Bennett takes Austin's hand and threads their fingers together. "We can do it." His voice is certain, no lack of resolve.

Austin presses his face to Bennett's shoulder. "You have to tell me all about Boston."

"You'll hear so much you'll get sick of it," Bennett promises, ignoring Austin's murmured  _impossible_. He lies there, thinking, before something occurs to him and he starts to laugh.

"What?" Austin says, raising his head.

"Did I ever tell you my first impression of you?" Bennett asks. Austin shakes his head, confusion in his eyes. "Well, I thought you looked really unkempt, uncaring and arrogant. Like a skater or ..." he gives a dramatic pause, raising an eyebrow at Austin, who looks unamused, "A California surfer."

Austin does smile then. "And now I'm going to school in California."

"And now you're going to school in California," Bennett confirms. "So you can really be one."

Austin rolls his eyes. "That's not funny."

"No, but you still think it's a cute idea anyway."

"I admit nothing."

Bennett smiles at him. "We can do it, you know. We just have to try, put the work in."

"You're worth that," Austin tells him. Bennett knows he's not lying.

"You are too," Bennett says, and he means it just as much.


End file.
